iTrap
by ColorsOfTheSky101
Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost&found love. Based on The Parent Trap
1. Trapter 1

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. **

**A/N: No, this is not a joke. Your eyes are not deceiving you. ColorsOfTheSky101 (that's me, in case you ignored the little author's name next to my story, which would be alright with me!) is posting a story. On this site. For the first time in, what, two years? Maybe more? Jeez, I don't know. Although I'm sure many of you have forgotten me by now, maybe some of my old fans/friends are still out there, and if you are, and you'd like an explanation as to why I have quite spontaneously decided to return, I will explain at the bottom of this chapter. If uninterested in my reasoning, feel free to ignore it! Anyway, on with the story…**

iTrap

Chapter 1

"Move it, Dad!" Mary Benson demanded as she leaned forward from the back seat, her blue eyes directed in sharp annoyance at her father, who was at the wheel. She hated how slowly and carefully her Dad drove. Seriously, cars were given the ability of acceleration for a reason! "We're gonna be late! And I refuse – do you hear me? Re_fuse_! – to get stuck with a bunk bed _again_ this year!"

"Mary, chill," Fredward Benson replied, shaking his head, keeping his brown eyes on the winding road ahead. The route to this camp was a God-forsaken deathtrap. Of course, the brightly colored _Camp Sparkly Lake!_ brochure never mentioned _that_. It would've been helpful to know, especially in the process of picking a camp for his thirteen year-old daughter two years ago that he would have to drive to and from at least twice a year, that was all he was saying… "We are not going to be late this time. I calculated departure time relative to arrival time to the nub, even accounting for traffic and weather conditions – "

"Has anyone ever told you you're a dork?" Mary cut him off rudely and, much to Freddie's dismay, familiarly.

"Yes," he answered honestly, remembering like he always seemed to. "Yes, many times, actually." _Mostly the same person_, he added to himself.

"Good, 'cause they're right."

"Mary…" Freddie started in a warning tone. She sighed.

"Sorry, jeez," she apologized grudgingly, as she rolled the windows on each side of her down and crossed her arms. "I was just saying!" From the corner of his eye, Freddie saw her wild, curly blonde hair blowing all over the place and wondered how it didn't bother her in the least. The disorder of it all, the distraction of it all. Once again (as much as he tried to prevent it, it happened at least three times a day) Freddie was struck by the resemblance. _Mary is so much like her. Too much like her._

"What have I told you about unnecessary insults?" he went on, like clockwork.

"…That they're unnecessary?" Mary answered, clearly bored with the discussion they had had all too many times. It was like a dull, colorless, overplayed infomercial, one that, Mary felt, did not pertain to her in the least. She was just having some fun. Just because her father was allergic to fun didn't mean she had to be.

Luckily, Camp Sparkle Lake was noodles of fun.

"Exactly," Freddie nodded, knowing he probably hadn't gotten through to his rambunctious daughter but still hoping he had. The blue car finally (a three-hour drive, so the word 'finally' was most definitely called for) took a sharp left onto a worn-out dirt road, past the rainbow billboard with the camp's super girly name printed upon it.

"Yes! We're here!" Mary bounced in her seat like an energizer bunny on sugar rush, straining her neck to stare out the window, willing her Dad to speed up so they could arrive all the more quickly. "Boo-yah!" Freddie gave a small smile at his daughter's avid enthusiasm. She really did love it here, and he knew it. Mary didn't love very many things, but those things she did love, she loved with everything she had.

"You're not looking excited enough," Freddie joked sarcastically. "Maybe we should turn around – " Immediately a dainty but powerful hand whacked his shoulder, followed by outright protest at his clearly light-hearted humor. "Ow! Mary! I'm driving! What have I told you about -?"

"Violence is bad, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know!" she brushed her father's comment away. "Look, there's the parking lot! Go, go, go!" With a sigh, he signaled right and sailed smoothly into the parking lot, and then, parking space. The moment the car was in park mode, Mary zipped out of the car. She already had two of her bags out of the trunk by the time Freddie made his way out of the car to help her.

"I can tell you're going to miss me," he said jokingly, though part of him was a little hurt that Mary was so eager to leave him for half the summer, even though he knew she didn't mean it that way.

"Hi, Mary!" a redheaded counselor approached us; one of many in the parking lot on duty to help campers carry their bags to their respective cabins. She was holding a clipboard.

"What up, Sandra!" Mary greeted her excitedly, with a high five. "Do I have you as a counselor again this year?"

"No, sadly I do not," Sandra said, trying to muster up a sad face, but Freddie knew better. Last summer he had received exactly twenty-seven calls of complaint concerning Mary's conduct, many from Sandra herself. Grape juice in the Whites laundry, spray-painted insults on cabin windows, inappropriate lunch disposal (you know, pants, knapsacks, people's faces), the list went on and on. He could tell Sandra was beyond relieved to not have to deal with Mary these next few weeks. But hey, the camp didn't kick her out. He called that progress. "You, my dear, are in…" she checked her clipboard. "Bunk 13B. With Alana. Lucky girl." She made a subtle but noticeable face. "Want some help with these bags?"

"Abso-bacon-lutely!" Mary agreed. "S'not like I'm gonna carry them myself, know what I mean?" Mary handed Sandra two of her three relatively heavy suitcases. "Feel free to make a second trip."

"Mary," Freddie scolded. "Nice try. Pick up a bag and help." Mary rolled her eyes and grudgingly agreed. Sandra, content with the fact that she did not, in fact, have to make a second trip, headed in the direction of 13B.

"So, I guess this is it," Mary eventually said, turning to her dad. He smiled down at her.

"Guess so, kiddo."

"Just so you know," she continued. "I _will_ miss you a lot." Father and daughter hugged goodbye, in understanding of how important they were to each other. At least to Mary's knowledge, he was all she had left of a family.

"Love you, Mary," Freddie said as they pulled apart. "Have a kick-butt time."

Mary smiled, the biggest summer of her life ahead of her. "Love you more." She picked up her bag and followed Sandra. Freddie watched her go, deep in thought.

_"Love you more."_ The most familiar response of all. But the past, well, it was the past.

Freddie shook his thoughts away, got into his car, and made his way out of the lot. During his exit, he accidentally cut off another parent in a red convertible trying to get in. The driver honked like a maniac until he was finally able to get passed through.

_Some people can be so abrasive_, he thought bitterly.

* * *

><p>"Some people can be so freaking inconsiderate!" Samantha Puckett ranted to her daughter, Clara, aged thirteen, who sat patiently in the passenger's seat of their red convertible. "I mean, c'mon, move much?"<p>

"Maybe he didn't know you were trying to get in?" Clara suggested, fingering her long, curly chocolate brown hair, her blue eyes, as always, intelligent and innocent behind thin glasses. She had been deeply pondering her upcoming first sleep-away camp experience, the pros and cons. It wasn't making the pit in her stomach any smaller though. Sam sighed in defeat, her daughter always the voice of reason.

"Fine," she admitted, as she quickly pulled into a vacant parking spot. Her park was crooked, possibly creeping into the spot next to her, but she didn't seem to notice or care. "But still. He could've looked." Sam put the car into park, and she and her daughter hopped out. "Alrighty, kid, let's unload this baby." Together they hoisted Clara's three suitcases out of the trunk and onto the ground. Sam wiped her brow, flipped her wild golden hair, and smiled at Clara, thrown for a moment, as often happened, how bright her persona was. She always joked she could smell her exceptional intellect from a mile away. Of course she knew where it came from, but man was it something to see. "So, are you psyched or what?" _What_, Clara thought.

"Being totally honest here," Clara replied, holding her stomach. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

Sam frowned. "Aw, and why is that?"

"What if the other girls don't like me?" she voiced her concern shakily. Mature for her age, Clara consistently had a difficult time relating to kids her own age. She didn't get invited to many parties, nor had she ever been away from home for more than two days, and that was with Science Olympiad, her people. "What if they tease me? What if -?"

"Good morning, ladies!" a black-haired woman approached the Puckett car, smiling broadly, holding a clipboard. She reminded Sam of one of those toothpaste commercials. She inwardly cringed. "I'm Alana. Name, please?"

"This is Clara Puckett," Sam announced proudly. "She's a new 'Sparkler'."

"Excellent!" Alana smiled and scanned her clipboard. "You're going to live in cabin 13A, with Sandra. I'll help you with your bags!"

"Thanks so much," Clara said politely as Alana picked up two of her three suitcases and headed towards the cabins in the distance. Once she was out of earshot, Sam turned to Clara and put her hands on her shoulders gently.

"Listen up, Clara," she began, "You're a Puckett! No one messes with a Puckett. Especially one as fantastic as you." She grinned at her pride and joy. "Now, Aunt Carly highly recommended this camp from when Emily went a few years ago. It's an awesome place, and you're going to have an awesome time!" Sam did not know just how true this statement would be.

"Do you swear?" Clara asked, testing her mom. "On _ham_?"

"I swear on ham," Sam agreed, raising her hand up. "A thousand times over."

Clara beamed. "Then I believe you."

"That's my girl!" Sam said happily, pulling Clara into a tight hug. Once she released her, she went on to say, "I love you. Be good. Listen to your counselor. Only pull pranks that don't physically impair people."

"Got it, Mom. Love you more." Sam ruffled Clara's hair, and then watched as she picked up her last suitcase and ran after Alana.

_"Love you more"..._ No. She refused to go there. Not now.

When Clara was out of sight, Sam turned to her car and examined her parking job. "Mama needs to work on her aim."

**A/N: So there it is, chapter one. I hope you guys liked it. :) Quite frankly I am a little nervous. Strike that, I'm REALLY nervous. I haven't posted something in a long, long time. Speaking of which, if you are curious, here is my explanation:**

**I had a huge loss in my family a few years ago… I lost my mom. As a result, I sort of lost myself. I wasn't empty or anything, at least not later on. I was still me, but a different me. I guess, more guarded, maybe more appreciate, I don't really know. But anyway, I couldn't finish any writing I had started before my mom's death. I just couldn't find my way back to the place where I was while writing it. So I stopped writing altogether for a while, but started up again soon enough, because writing is my passion, and I can't let go of my passion. I recently watched iOMG (greatest iCarly EVER, just saying), and I remembered how much I loved writing fanfiction because it was the closest I ever had to being published, to have my words shown to the public. It was the greatest feeling. And I thought about it and thought about it (seriously, I have been thinking about it for a ridiculously long period of time) and eventually came to the conclusion that I don't have to be in the same place or even feel like the same exact person to keep posting on here. Maybe that's the case with the unfinished stories, I don't really know, but I _can_ post new pieces on this site as a different person, a different writer. Maybe even a better one. So here I am, hoping to be accepted once again into the FanFiction community.**

**Anyway, mad thanks for reading, even if you decide not to review. I appreciate it so much. :)**

**- Colors**


	2. Trapter 2

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. **

iTrap

Chapter 2

Cabin 13A was deserted when Clara arrived. _Chiz, am I the only camper in this bunk?_ Her panic started to swell – _No, no, there are other suitcases in here. Some girls are even unpacked._ A string of distanced laughter from outside implied that whoever was already here had left the bunk to spend some time in the fresh air. Even her counselor wasn't around, most likely assisting with more luggage and sign-ins. _Okay, calm down, Clara. Everything's going to be okay._

The counselor that had helped her had placed her bags at the far back left, atop the first story of a bunk bed. She visibly cringed, stuck since the tender age of five with an irrevocable fear of bunk beds because while staying at her Aunt Cary's house in her twins' bedroom, the top bunk had collapsed just moments before she planned on heading to bed. It was a worrier's worst nightmare, and Clara was, without a doubt, a worrier.

Still, she knew she would never ask for a switch. She wanted these girls to be accepting of her; it would only be fair that she be accepting of these conditions in return.

The first suitcase Clara tried to open, she found that the zipper was stuck. Her mother could have made a living out of closing suitcases that were way overly packed. She called it the Butt Method. What she never seemed to realize was that the immense pressure from her behind could cause loads of future damage to the suitcase in question.

She tried again, pulling with all her might, but unlike her mother, she was never the strong one. Brains but no brawn. She sighed, swatting the stupid suitcases in defeated frustration.

"Need some help?" Clara jumped. She hadn't heard the person come in. Turning around, she came face-to-face with a tall, friendly-looking brunette girl with a genuine smile plastered on her face.

"Um, yeah," she answered, focusing back on the suitcase. "It-it won't really open."

"Here, let me try," she offered, pulling the suitcase towards her. She pulled a bottle of what looked like liquid soap out of her pocket and rubbed some on the zipper. Amazingly, the suitcase opened her first try.

"That was impressive," Clara pointed out. "Thank you."

"You loosened it!" the girl said. "I'm Gina, by the way. Gina Gibson." She held out her hand, and Clara took it. They shook.

"Clara Puckett," she replied. "Are you bunking here, too?"

"I am!" she said brightly.

"Great!"

"So I can show you the ropes," Gina continued. "This is my fifth summer here."

"Really?" Clara asked in disbelief. "Don't you ever miss your parents?"

"Well, my mom's a model, so she's never really around," Gina shrugged. "As for my dad… well, he takes his shirt off. A lot. It's nice to have a break." Clara made a point to laugh at her potential friend's joke, but still felt a little pang in her fragile heart. Of course she loved her mom dearly, more than girls her age usually did, but somehow she always felt like her mom didn't entirely understand her. What she would do to have a father for one day. Even one that took his shirt off regularly. "So how are you liking Sparkle Lake so far?"

"Oh, it's – " _Crash! _"Whoa, what was that?"

"Ha ha, suckers!" cackled a voice from what seemed like just outside 13A.

"Mary!" an older, more authoritative voice reacted to the scene. "We've had this discussion more than enough times! There will be no pushing over of the Port-O-Potties! _Especially_ the occupied ones! Caitlin, let me help you out of there…"

"Maybe you should invest in sturdier Port-O-Potties," the one called Mary suggested.

A sigh. "I see you haven't changed much this past year."

"Now you're catchin' on!"

"I smell like pee!" the girl Clara assumed to be Caitlin whined.

Gina shook her head in disapproval at the scene the two had just overheard. "That's Mary Benson," she explained to Clara, her dislike for the troublemaker evident. "I'd steer clear of her if you like the current arrangement of your face or self-esteem. Seriously. "

"That definitely will not be a problem for me." Clara assured, afraid of the girl already. _Note to self: Avoid Mary Benson. And Port-O-Potties. I'll pee in the woods if I have to._

"Make way, make way!" Mary called out to 13B, pushing a girl blocking the door entrance out of the way. "Mary's back in town!" After a short vandalistic detour, Mary finally showed up at her bunk. She stopped in the middle of the floor and scanned room, half full of the nervous, fearful faces, and half full of friendlier, unsuspecting faces, waving. "What's shakin' roomies?"

"Hello, Mary," an older woman dared to approach the young girl, smiling widely. "I'm Alana, your counselor. I've heard so many interesting things about you!"

"Most people have," Mary shrugged and glanced around the room. Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Hey, where are my bags?" She searched the room rapidly with her eyes.

"They're on your bed, silly!" Alana pointed out cheerfully. "The bottom of that bunk bed right over – "

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Mary hollered, a sudden rage bubbling out of every fiber of her being. "I AM NOT SLEEPING IN A _STUPID BUNK BED_!" Mary stormed over to the single bed right next to the rejected bunk bed and got all up in the face of the dirty blonde-haired girl sitting on it. "You're switching with me!"

"S-sure," the poor girl squeaked, and then scrambled around grabbing all of her stuff and tossing it onto the lower part of the bunk bed.

Satisfied, Mary casually grabbed one of her suitcases and rolled it in front of her new, more adequate sleeping area. "Great doing business with you."

"I am so in over my head," Alana mumbled. Then she brightened up again, for show. She clapped her hands twice. "Okay, 13B, it's time for the Welcome Back Barbeque! Grab a sweatshirt – it's going to be a chilly night – and line up at the door!" Mary asserted herself to the front of the line. The girl behind her tapped her on the shoulder. She was Asian, with black, straight hair and a mischievous smile.

"That Port-O-Potty prank?" she told Mary, and smiled. "So hilarious."

Mary nodded appreciatively. "Finally, someone who sees it my way!"

"I'm Jackie."

"Mary."

"Oh, I know," she said. "You're a legend at this camp. We were in separate bunks last year." They fist-bumped. Mary smiled. Legend. She liked the sound of that.

"Well, Jackie," she patted her fellow camper on the back. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"The line is _supposed_ to be moving," a random girl from the back announced carefully. Mary turned around and glared daggers.

"Shut your stupid mouth before I shut it for you," she threatened.

"Mary, we don't threaten people here," Alana reminded her, as the line headed out the door. "This is a happy place."

When would anybody learn? Mary didn't do 'happy.'

* * *

><p><em>"Why don't I have a mom?" The question was blunt. Even at age 5, Mary didn't beat around the bush. She crossed her tiny arms and watched her father's reaction. His back was to her, focused on the stove. He noticeably tensed up.<em>

_ "You do have a mom," Freddie finally answered, and he had boxes of forgotten chef awards, two broken lamps, and half a lifetime's worth of rotting bacon in the downstairs fridge to prove it._

_ "Then bring her," Mary demanded with a squeak. "Bring her to me."_

_ Freddie shook his head in both amusement and sadness. His heartbreak was a strange one, a prolonged one. For him, there was never that time where he moped for weeks to months to years. It just came and went, in twisted pangs from memories, from pictures, from a random feisty-looking blonde he passed by on the street that looked a bit like the one that got away._

_ "Mary, if your mom wanted to be here," he told the small girl, still waiting on her mother. She and her father would wait on her mother for years and years to come. "She would be."_

* * *

><p>The Welcome Back Barbeque was really quite a spectacle for the young girls at Camp Sparkle Lake. It had everything from relay races to pie-eating contests to face paint, all of those festivities leading up to fireside singing and s'mores.<p>

Clara, Gina and two other girls from 13A named Hanna and Gabby were happily making their rounds, each girl holding a cotton candy. She and Gina had kicked major butt in the egg toss, thanks to Clara's perfect sense of angling and projectile motion. The exact opposite happened during the sack race; they failed miserably and toppled over each other, but Clara couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Her impressive brain was buzzing with excitement. Was this what it was like to have friends?

"Yo, check it out!" Hanna exclaimed, pointing her manicured finger towards the pie-eating contest table, surrounded by a gigantic crowd of kids. The four girls ambled over to see what was going on.

Behind the table stood Mary, though Clara wouldn't know. She was far too distanced from the table to get a proper view, and anyway, right then she only knew Mary by her aggressive, scary words and actions.

Mary's face was covered in piecrust and whipped cream, a triumphant, confident smirk on her face from what had just been her fifth victory in the past hour. "Anyone else wanna step up?" she dared the crowd to challenge her. Nobody looked too eager, instead opting to chat loudly amongst themselves. "Any takers? I'm still hungry here!"

Clara, she was never the impulsive one. Ever. But she was a Puckett and, consequently, possessed a positively bottomless pit of a stomach. She was already enjoying her time here so much; why not take the risk? Make a name for herself?

Before she could think it all the way through, she shot her hand into the air. "I would like to try!" In an instant, the crowd fell into a shocked silence. All eyes were on her. Immediately uncomfortable and regretting her decision, Clara slowly lowered her hand.

"Clara," Gina whispered to her abruptly. "You just challenged _Mary Benson_." Clara's stomach dropped to the floor. Alarms rang in her head. _No! No! I'm too young to die! _Her fight or flight senses kicked in, and, quite unlike her mother, she chose flight. At least, she tried to.

"Aw, chickening out?" Mary teased. That stopped Clara dead in her tracks. Everyone continued to stare at her in awe. She didn't want her fellow campers to think she was a coward.

"N-no," Clara responded to the bully. Mary rolled her eyes. This was going to be cake.

"Then put your pie where your mouth is!" Slowly, Clara made her way up to where Mary stood, trying not to look as terrified as she felt. A handful of campers clapped, proud of her bravery.

Jackie set fresh pies in front of both contenders. Knowing better than to start off an eating contest disadvantaged, Mary grabbed a towel from under the table and wiped the remnants of her last battle off her face. Simultaneously, Clara removed her glasses, setting them aside from the war zone.

And all at once, the Camp Sparkle Lake community gasped.

"What?" Mary demanded, her eyes narrowed. Silence. Gaping. "Stop standing there like stupid fish and speak, fools!"

"Fish actually can't stand," Clara pointed out meekly. "They, um, swim." Too preoccupied with the campers' overly shocked faces, Mary ignored Clara entirely. Everyone started whispering, pointing. More campers and even some counselors headed over to see what the commotion was about.

"Somebody tell me what's going on!" Mary barked. She targeted a ten year-old close to the front of the crowd. "You! What're you staring at?"

"Nuffing!" she responded quickly.

"Doesn't look like 'nuffing,'" Mary pointed out.

"It's just…" the little girl trailed off, staring at her toes. "You guys look the same." She seemed to echo the thoughts of everybody else, because they all nodded in agreement.

"Seriously," Gina added. "If you had the same hair, you guys could be the exact same person." A few other 13A and 13B girls spewed out a chorus of 'yeahs.'

Slowly and disbelievingly, Mary and Clara turned towards each other. And screamed so loud that everything around them seemed to shake.

"What are you, a freakish clone or something?" Mary yelled, her heart pounding. "Is this a joke?"

"I'm – I'm – no," Clara stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence for this girl appeared to be _her_, but with blonde hair. This was just uncanny. She had to be dreaming. Or delusional. Maybe she had a bad breakfast. Or ten thousand bad breakfasts. Or she was coming down with a fever or Mad Cow disease or something. "I don't even like hamburgers or anything, I swear!"

"What the cheese is _that_ supposed to mean?" Mary snapped at her look-alike. She breathed in, then out. Not even this clone freak girl was going to rob her of her Pie Championship reputation. "Whatever. Start the countdown!" Nobody wanted to. They were too distracted by how alike the two girls appeared. Even the counselors wouldn't step up. "Hello? We've got a pie-eating contest, remember?"

"I'll do it," Clara offered quietly.

"Fine," Mary muttered. She entered ready position.

"In five, four, three, two…" Both girls dove into their respective pies like pros. 13A cheered enthusiastically for Clara, while a few members of 13B rooted for Mary, most out of fear they would get beaten up or verbally abused otherwise. Mary gobbled hers down in twenty seconds flat, a new record. Ready to claim yet another wonderful victory, she lifted her head up from the plate she'd licked clean, only to see Clara was finished well before her and giving everybody a sheepish, half-smile that made Mary want to kick her in the shin. Everyone cheered. Her bunkmates ran over to hug her and high-five her stupid nub hands.

_How __**dare**__ she out-eat me! Who does she think she is?_ Jackie patted Mary on the back sympathetically, which really only made things worse. Most of the girls her age were gathered around Clara now, congratulating her.

"Wow, nice work, Clara!"

"That was awesome!"

"Looks like Benson's got some competition!"

Mary's blood boiled at Clara's stupid, proud face. That should be _her_, sporting a stupid, proud face! _Her_! She tapped Clara rudely on the shoulder, ungluing her from the praise.

"Congratulations," Mary said with a smirk.

"Oh, thanks!" Clara responded so sweetly and surprised it made Mary sick. "It was a really close call."

"Not that," Mary snapped. Clara's smiles faltered. "I'm congratulating on you making it to the top of My List. And just so you know," She leaned in real close, their glacial blue eyes mirroring each other's. "It's not a good place to be. Better watch your back." With that, Mary made her exit, leaving Clara shaking in her sneakers.

"Definitely your evil twin," Gina remarked, shaking her head.

"Yeah," Clara watched her similar-faced nemesis strut away. She couldn't help but notice that she acted a lot like her mom did. "Definitely."

* * *

><p>"Freddie!" Carly Shay-Brown greeted her old friend excitedly. Freddie found large comfort in hearing Carly's voice. It was proof that not everything had changed. "So happy you called! It's been a while." Three years, if you wanted to be technical. And Freddie, he was big on being technical. "How are you doing?" She sounded happy but tired, which was normal for a woman in her early thirties with twin ten year-old sons, and a husband to clean up after.<p>

"I'm alright," Freddie replied lamely, the phone balanced crookedly on his shoulder as he sat at the kitchen table of a large, empty house, organizing some student files from the AT Computer Science class he'd taught last semester. "It's way too quiet here without Mary shaking things up. I keep straining to listen for spontaneous crashes by force of habit."

Carly laughed. "She off at Sparkle Lake again?"

"Yep," _Chiz, I think I'm missing some files… I could've sworn I had more students than this…_ Frustrated that he couldn't fully organize these files, he gave up and paced the tiled floor instead, hoping Carly could distract him from his spastic organization failure.

"I'm so glad she loves it there," Carly gushed. "Emily had a blast when Spencer sent her."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me." Freddie sighed, running his fingers through his short hair. "Honestly, Carly? I'm kind of worried about her."

He could just see Carly's concerned face. It had never changed over the years. "How come?"

"I just…" His eyes moved to a picture frame on the ledge above the sink that he had positioned face down twelve to thirteen years ago. "I feel like because I'm the only one who was here to help her grow up, that she… well, that she never really learned how to be a girl." It sounded stupid, but it was the only way he knew how to phrase it. "I mean, there's the aggression, and the nasty comments – "

"She's a tad high maintenance," Carly understated gently. Freddie knew she had a soft spot for Mary. "But it's just her way. She'll learn to cool it, she'll mature."

A comfortable silence ensued on both ends of the telephone. The question stumbled awkwardly out of Freddie's mouth before he could stop it. "How's Sam?" _Pang_. There it was.

"Oh, Freddie," Carly sighed sadly. "I really don't think we should – "

"I just want to know how she is," Freddie's retort was quick, almost rehearsed. "Seriously, Carly. It's been thirteen years. I'm over it." Carly didn't speak for a while, contemplating the words he'd given her.

"Sam is fine," she finally answered.

"And Clara?"

"Also fine."

"Good." Freddie took a deep breath and nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "That's good."

Whoever invented separation was the _worst_. They should be put in jail or better yet, locked in an asylum, 'cause their invention _sucked_. Majorly.

"I think it's time you start dating again," Carly suggested softly. "I've got his really pretty friend, Rose. She works at my firm. Want her number?"

Freddie sighed deeply, plopping back down in his chair. He scanned the empty room, one of many in this big, old empty house that still smelled like _her_. Still embodied _her_. Maybe Carly was right. Maybe it was time to move on.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

**A/N: First of all, I'd just like to thank each and every one of you who reviewed. You have no idea how scared I was, but you all put me at ease and made me feel comfortable, happy and proud. You really are a wonderful bunch, and I'm all too glad to be back. :) Hope you guys liked this chapter. I think in the next one I'll be picking up the pace a bit. Stay tuned!**

**-Colors**


	3. Trapter 3

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Or Glee.**

iTrap

Chapter 3

_If asked to describe Sam Puckett and Freddie Benson in one word, almost everybody would go with 'opposites.' Each individual trait one had was canceled out by the other's contrasting trait. It applied to every single aspect of their personalities with the exception of how much they cared for each other, which was quite equally powerful on both ends._

_ They were dysfunctional magnets. They swerved in and out of each other's lives carelessly, randomly, never quite knowing where they stood or what was to come but even after each goodbye, somehow knowing that it just wasn't the end. They never tied loose ends clean or closed the door the whole way. They always left just enough room._

_ It was as if no matter how much they tried to kill each other, no matter how flustered, frustrated, miserable one made the other, they were meant to be together, romantically or otherwise. Fate pushed for them, fought for them. Sam and Freddie were strong, could potentially live separate lives (feeling like they were missing something, no doubt), but Fate was stronger. Fate always won._

_ For example, when Freddie headed off to Harvard University, and Sam to Boston University, that was supposed to be, you know, __**it**__. Book closed, hands dusted._

_ So imagine Freddie's surprise the beginning of his sophomore year when he spotted Sam just casually walking in the opposite direction on campus, packaged beef jerky dangling from her fingers. He literally halted in disbelief, spilling his coffee in the process. "Sam?"_

_ "Oh hey Freddork!" she responded both cheerfully and condescendingly with her mouth full. Unlike Freddie, she kept on walking, nudging him slightly as she passed by. Seriously confused, it took Freddie a couple of seconds to react._

_ "Hey, wait!" he whirled around and caught up to the eating blonde. "What're you doing here?" He thought it really out of character, not to mention a little frightening, that she would visit him._

_ She still didn't stop, consistently the restless part of their little magnet game. "Going to school here, what else would I be doing?"_

_ "What?" Freddie couldn't believe his ears. Was he going deaf? Or was Sam just going completely insane? "I thought you were in Boston."_

_ "It's called a transfer," she told him as she rolled her eyes and flicked her long-lost nerd in the head. "Doi!" He rubbed his head, a familiar annoyance from her presence overtaking him._

_ "How," Freddie asked slowly, secretly impressed but trying not to show it. "did you manage to transfer to __**Harvard**__?"_

_ "Psh, like it's hard," she waved his question away, inhaling more jerky. "I actually meant to apply to Haverford but applied here by accident. Nutty, huh?" Nutty? She got into Harvard by mistake, and she called that __**nutty**__?_

_ He shook his head, annoyed and amused at the very same time. He wanted to ask her why she didn't tell him of her change in location ahead of time. Or why BU wasn't the place for her after all. Or if she still felt the way she said she had the night after Graduation. But long ago Freddie discovered that questioning Sam usually yielded more questions rather than tangible answers. So he would drop it, and enjoy his newfound time with the girl he could never, ever forget. "You're really something, Puckett."_

_ Sam dropped the now empty jerky package carelessly to the ground and shrugged. "As long as it's a good something, fine with me."_

* * *

><p>Two girls were positioned in the two in the morning shadows of 13A, preparing for the messiest attack in the history of Sparkle Lake.<p>

"Alright, Jackie, did you get the information I wanted?" asked their leader. It had been a week and a half since the dreaded pie mishap; in Mary's mind, just enough time for the enemy to have her guard down, but not enough time for her to have forgotten the fear entirely.

"'Course I did," Jackie confirmed confidently.

"Well?"

"Object in question is positioned on the wall directly to the right of the door."

"Our right or their right?"

"Ours."

"Excellent," Mary rubbed her hands together, covered by the sleeves of her black sweatshirt. "And the counselor?"

"Sleeping like a little baby."

"Excellent," the blonde repeated. "Initiating stage one of Operation Ruinage." Jackie dug her hand into a bag, pre-prepared for this occasion, and handed Mary a spool of string. Mary grabbed the loose end between her fingers and carefully inched 13A's doorway open. Only the sounds of the campers' unsuspecting breathing could be heard. Mary's quick eyes snapped to the right. Jackie was correct in her findings. Slowly and quietly, Mary tied the end of the spool to the little but powerful red handle and unraveled the spool several times before swiftly stepping back onto the porch, out of harm's way. She let the string rest, pressed between the closed door and the doorframe. "Stage one complete. Commencing stage two."

Jackie pulled out two clear rain ponchos, complete with hoods. "Don't want to mess up our hair, now do we?" she said with a smirk. Mary hardly cared about her hair. She was on a mission. She took the bag from Jackie, dug out two cans of whipped cream and two cans of silly string and handed her companion one of each.

"Ready?" Mary asked, flipping her hood up, an excited glint in her eyes. Jackie copied her. "On three. One… two…three!" Mary yanked the string, setting off the fire alarm, setting off the ceiling sprinklers in the cabin. "Let's move!" Commotion exploded inside the bunk, all the girls awake, screaming, panicked and getting rained on. Mary and Jackie burst into the cabin, hollering at the top of their lungs and spraying whipped cream and silly strings all about the place: on the walls, the beds, the floor, the ceilings, even the kids themselves.

"Stop it!" Sandra the counselor shouted. "Stop it right now! Girls, remain, calm, I'll – " She slipped on a pile of whipped cream and fell onto her back, hard. Then, she let out a cry of frustration and pain. "I have scoliosis!"

Clara, Mary noticed with utter annoyance, was safe from the Mary-made storm because she slept under a bunk bed. Plus she was stealthily hiding under her blanket, probably hoping to avoid the disaster entirely. _Not on my watch, sister._

Mary raced to an unarmed Clara, ripped the blanket off her bed – "Stay away from me!" she'd shouted – and pummeled her with the rest of the contents of the cans. "Please stop! Please! Cut it out!" Clara flailed around everywhere, trying to escape, to push away, but resistance was futile. Finally, the cans were empty and Mary tossed them under the bed and made a run for it, Jackie right behind her.

They hightailed out the door and fell against the side of the bunk outside, laughing hysterically. Fits of outrage, whining and pathetic cries to remain calm continued to leak out of the cabin.

Absolute chaos. Fire alarm. Whipped cream. This had to be the best prank Mary had ever pulled. Ever.

Above all the craziness ensuing sat Clara, still on her ruined bed, staring at what was left (not much) of half a picture she always kept under her pillow as she slept. It was of a brown-haired, brown-eyed young man, probably about twenty, wearing a tuxedo and smiling brightly at the camera. Somebody unseen was giving him bunny ears – her mother, no doubt. She'd found the photo in her mother's bedside table years and years ago.

It was all she had left of her father, and now it was doused in whipped cream. A tear trickled down her cheek as she tucked the destroyed photograph into her sweatshirt pocket. Her fists clenched, she placed her glasses over her eyes, slipped her sneakers on and fled the scene, slamming the cabin door behind her. Nobody in there saw her leave.

The first sound she heard upon her exit was laughter, coming from close by. She rounded the corner of the bunk and ran into Mary and Jackie, leaning on each other in hysterics.

"I figured you would have something to do with this," Clara spoke bravely, inwardly about to pass out. The two girls stopped laughing and stared.

"You can't prove anything," Mary crossed her arms. Clara raised an eyebrow and nodded at the whipped cream-covered ponchos and empty cans at their feet. "Nope. No proof."

"Oh, _please_," Clara drew out the 'please,' fed up with this bully. She had taken enough garbage from her junior high as it was. She was better than this. Enough was enough. "Even if that were true, I don't need any proof. You're a jerk and a bully. Everybody knows it." A flash of hurt crossed Mary's face that most people wouldn't be able to pick up on. But Clara wasn't most people, especially not when it concerned Mary. She wouldn't discover this until later that night.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Jackie said quietly, abandoning her first in command and backing up towards 13B. Both girls ignored her.

"Shut up," Mary snapped, her blue eyes like spitfire. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Why yes, yes I do," Clara shot back. "I'm talking to a girl my age, who's not that much bigger than me, or that much braver than me, who just whipped cream'd the only picture I have left of my Dad!" Something coming over her, Clara shoved at Mary's shoulders. "_That's _who I'm talking to!" That was all it took. Mary's grabbed a fistful of Clara's hair and pulled. Clara screamed in protest, grabbing Mary's hair as well, who then also screeched in outrage. Both of them struggled to shove the other one off, but to no avail.

"Let go!"

"No, you let go!"

"You first!"

"So are we going in order of best to worst pie-eater?"

"Aghhh!" A golf car pulled up, it's headlights blinding. Both girls did not notice it. The director and co-director of Camp Sparkle Lake stepped out, wearing pajamas.

"E_nough_!" they shouted simultaneously. Sandra, covered in mess, and Alana, now awake and not covered in mess, rushed outside to see what was going on. They saw Clara and Mary in combat and quickly pulled them apart, kicking and screaming.

"Aw, man," Alana whispered to Sandra.

"We are _so_ done for," said Sandra.

"Mary Benson and…" the director's eyes fell on Clara. "Friend. Of course you were behind this debacle. I should've known."

"Wait, no, I didn't do anything!" Clara attested.

"I don't want to hear it, young lady," the co-director said, pulling a piece of silly string off of Clara's shoulder. "The evidence speaks for itself."

"I don't think Clara would do something like that," Sandra insisted. "Mary, probably, but – "

"Gee, thanks," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Both of you," the director grabbed the two girls' wrists. "You're coming with us." The director, co-director, Clara, and Mary silently drove to the camp's main office building. "We have a guest bedroom near the nurse's office. You two will stay here for the night and out of trouble's way until we figure out what to do with you." The directors led the girls into the building and to the aforementioned guest room.

"_Or_," Mary suggested brightly. "We could all go to sleep and write this off as a crazy dream!" The directors responded to that by exiting the room and closing the door shut.

"Valiant effort," Clara said sarcastically. "But no cigar."

"Gross, I don't smoke!"

Clara sighed. "Never mind." Mary examined the dark, cramp room, consisting of two abnormally high beds with a table in between, an awkwardly placed, oval-shaped rug, and a door to the bathroom. Her nose crinkled. For some reason, the room smelled like old people and carrots.

"Well, this sucks eggs," she stated the obvious. She hopped onto the bed on the left side of the room using way too much effort and proceeded in kicking its wooden support.

"You're telling me," Clara had to agree, sitting down on the empty bed. "And I can't even go to sleep because then you'll just try to kill me. And I am _not_ going to be dead for the next season of _Glee_."

"Oh, cool your jets," Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm not killing anyone. Except maybe the directors of this camp for making me stay here with you."

"I don't understand what it is that I did to make you hate me," Clara mumbled, pulling her sneakers off her feet.

"Dude, you practically yanked my hair off!"

"I mean before that," she clarified. "You hated me before that, too."

"Yeah, well…" Mary knew it was because of the pie-eating contest, but in retrospect, it seemed like a pretty ridiculous reason for hatred. _Did I really just admit that? Aw, man._ She was going soft; her father must have been rubbing off on her. This thought really ticked her off, and she kicked the bed frame harder. She watched as Clara pulled her glasses off and set them on the table. Once again she was hit with how identical they looked. It really freaked her out. "Can you just leave those on?"

"Why?"

"Because your face is scaring me."

"You're hilarious."

"No, like, really." Clara ignored her request, though in truth she was in agreement. The whole looking identical thing was too weird to compute. She wished they could maybe look into it, figure out if they had some sort of family connection, but already she knew that Mary wasn't one to cooperate. With a sigh, Clara rolled off the bed, shut off the lights, jumped back under the covers, and closed her eyes.

_Thump, thump, thump. _"Mary, could you please stop kicking your bed?"

"Fine. Party pooper." The room went silent again. Clara felt herself becoming drowsy.

_Thump, thump._ "Mary!"

"That wasn't me." Clara quickly sat up straight.

"Then what -?" Clara looked over at Mary, who was now standing, peering out the window. Surprisingly, she mirrored Clara's fearful expression.

"I think it's coming from outside the window," Mary whispered. "I can't tell. It's too dark." _Thump._ Both girls jumped. Clara scrambled out of bed. _Thump, thump._

"Oh no, it's a burglar!" Clara moaned, fearing the end. What else could be tapping on their window at half-past two in the morning?

"Forget burglar!" Mary hissed. "What if it's a _zombie_?"

"What if it's a _burglar zombie_?" _THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. _The girls shrieked. Mary lunged to the bathroom, looking for weaponry. She emerged with a plunger, her heart pounding in her chest. "Open the window on three." She commanded Clara. Clara's eyes widened.

"Absolutely not!" Clara shook her head violently. "There will be no letting in of burglar zombies!" _THUMP._

"Open the window and I'll plunger them to oblivion."

"Do you swear?"

"On _ham_!"

"Wait, where did you learn – " _THUMP, THUMP, THUMP_. They both screamed again. "Okay, okay, I'll do it!" With shaking hands, Clara unlocked the window and placed her fingers under the frame. "W-w-one… t-t-t-two….three…" She pushed the window up and a giant black claw plunged into the room. The two girls screeched bloody murder and Mary whacked the dang freakish thing with her plunger and with everything she had.

"What is it?" Clara cried.

"I don't know!"

"Kill it!"

"I'm trying!"

"Why won't it die?"

"It's invincible!"

All of a sudden, light flooded into the room, and the scary monster turned into nothing more than an askew tree branch.

"What in Sparkle Lake's name is going on in here?" the director asked loudly.

"Um," For once, Mary had no words. "We were just – "

"Rehearsing!" Clara chimed in. "For…" She hoped Mary would take it from there.

"For _something_!" Mary elaborated cleverly. Clara sighed. At least her heart rate was returning to normal.

"Well, it certainly sounds like something," the director commented. "But come on, girls. It's really late. Get some sleep. Okay?"

"Okay," Mary nodded.

"Goodnight!" Clara added. The director nodded in response and shut the door.

Mary and Clara turned to look at each other. For a few moments, they just stood there in silence. Mary glanced down to the plunger she gripped in her hands, Clara to the tree branch above their heads, and suddenly, the two girls burst into uncontrollable laughter. They laughed so hard they cried. They laughed so hard they fell to the floor, holding their stomachs, almost peeing their pants. They laughed so hard that they forgot they were enemies, forgot about war in pie and painful hair tugging.

They were in this together now. Mary Benson, Clara Puckett, and the most unnecessary plunger in history.

* * *

><p>"Sam! Why on earth are you still here?" Gretchen, one of Sam's bakery's night staff, questioned in disbelief as she entered the kitchen. "It's nearly three in the morning! Get on home!"<p>

"I will, I will," Sam assured her. "As soon as I finish decorating this wedding cake. It's gotta be perfect." With Clara at camp, as much as she missed her, Sam had a lot of free time on her hands to perfect her work.

Gretchen fetched some cleaning supplies from under the sink and sighed. "Sam Puckett, everything you bake is fantastic. You have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam shrugged her off, adding a delicate purple flower to the left side. "Buzz off, will ya?" She turned away from her soon-to-be masterpiece and smiled at Gretchen.

"My, my," she shook her head, laughing. "Every day you just get more and more polite, you know that?"

"And you get less and less nosy," Sam shot back with a smirk.

"Now, what is _this_?" Gretchen reached into the tiny trashcan by the kitchen entrance and pulled out a thick red and blue envelope. "This looks far too fancy to belong in the trash, don't you think so?"

"Gretchen!" Sam immediately dropped the tube of frosting and rushed over, trying to pry the envelope out of Gretchen's hands. "Did I not _just_ tell you how nosy you are?"

"Ridgeway High School reunion! August 15th!" Gretchen read the front, ignoring Sam's protests completely. "Now what would that be going in the garbage?" She gave Sam a knowing look. In response, Sam merely returned to her work. "Talk to me, Sam."

"There's nothing to say," she shrugged, exchanging the purple frosting for some blue. "I'm not going."

"Even if Carly is?"

"I see Carls all the time, anyways. There's no point."

"There's no one else you want to see?" Gretchen pressed, something Sam hated that she often did. "Not a soul?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Sam let her anger get the best of her and the tube accidentally dented the cake. "Dangit!" Gretchen walked over to Sam and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hon," she said sincerely. "Making that cake perfect is not going to make this couple's wedding perfect. Or their marriage." She patted her old friend a few times, placed the invitation on the counter, and then disappeared around the corner, leaving Sam to her wounded cake and her thoughts.

* * *

><p>Clara and Mary sat face to face on the guest room floor, chatting and eating Mary's secret stash.<p>

"I can't believe you bring beef jerky with you everywhere you go," Clara commented, happily taking another bite.

"I refuse to go anywhere without packaged meat within arm's reach," she explained.

"My mom does that, too!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" Clara said, shocked that she had found another meat fanatic. "There's always packaged ham in her glove compartment. _Always_." The two girls laughed at this, until Mary's smile faltered a little.

"Sorry I ruined your picture," she said softly. "I kinda get it. I have a picture of my mom that I take everywhere with me."

Surprised and touched, Clara responded, "It's alright."

"Is it really that screwed up?" Remembering she had the picture with her, Clara pulled it out of her sweatshirt pocket and handed it to Mary.

"See for yourself."

The moment Mary wiped some whipped cream aside and really looked at the photo, her eyes literally bulged out of her head. She must have been in The Twilight Zone. Or dreaming. _Holy cheese_.

"This can't be right," she stated in awe.

Clara leaned over, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Mary turned the picture over and over again in her trembling hands. "This…" she gulped. "This is my dad. It's a picture of my dad."

Clara's mouth dropped open. "What? That's impossible!" Her thoughts running a mile a minute, Mary dug her hand into her own sweatshirt pocket and pulled out her own photograph. With unsteady, eager hands, she placed both sacred pictures on the floor. Side by side.

Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett. On their wedding day. Smiling the day away. Giving each other bunny ears.

"Oh my god," the girls said in unison.

"When is your birthday?" Clara asked quickly.

"March 23rd, 2017."

"Same."

Silence. Amazed, awestruck silence.

"S-so," Clara eventually spoke again, unevenly. "So if my mom is your mom…"

"And your dad is my dad…"

"And we were born on the same day…" Clara's eyes widened. "We're sisters. Mary, we're sisters."

"Dude," Mary grinned. "We're _twins_."

**A/N: Guys, come on, stop, let's be serious here. The rising epidemic of burglar zombies is no laughing matter!**

**I would like to take this moment to, one, thank you ALL for your lovely reviews, and two, respond to some of said reviews. Maybe FanFiction's being screwy or something, but some of you seem to not be able to receive PMs. So here goes:**

**DiamondsInTheRough01: Thank you, dear! :) I'm glad you love Clara and Mary. I'm having tons of fun writing for them.**

**iSeddie: I most definitely remember you! Your pen name is awesome. Thank you very, very much, that really means a lot to me. :)**

**Hope you guys liked this chapter! I wrote "trapter" first by accident. And found it extremely funny because the name of the story is iTRAP. Would you guys judge me if I started calling them trapters? Ok, you probably would, wouldn't you? I would so judge me. I should stop now before I further humiliate myself. ;)**

**Also, if you haven't, you should totally read the oneshot From Lewbert's Twisted Eyes, by TheEnergizerBunny. It is both Seddie and HILARIOUS.**

**The updates will probably have a bit more space between them now, because I start up school again tomorrow. But fear not, I promise I won't disappear off the face of the Earth again.**

**-Colors**


	4. Trapter 4

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.**

iTrap

Chapter 4

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Clara asked her twin – wow, she really, truly had a twin. Wow. – tentatively. It was nearly a week later, close to one in the morning at Camp Sparkle Lake, as she followed Mary's stealthy feet past the CIT bunk towards the computer lab.

"Abso-bacon-lutely," Mary exclaimed, tugging Clara along. "Aren't you just dying to know why our parents split the family up?"

"Well, yes," Of course she was. It was all she could think about all week. At some points she truly had to force herself to read a book or write a letter to a friend attending Science Camp just to stop her head from spinning off its axis.

Ever since their fateful battle against that tree branch, Mary and Clara were, much to everyone's shock, inseparable. Clara liked to think they were making up for lost time. They sat together at every meal, telling story after story about their parents and their lives. The more she'd heard about her dad, the more she already loved him, as strange as that might sound. He taught Advance Topic science and computer classes at a local high school, double majored in Computer Science and Chemistry at Harvard University (her mom went there, too – they both suspected the duo met each other in college), and still designed video games and shot home movies in his spare time. He was a geek, just like her.

Mary was equally as ecstatic hearing about Sam, the woman who before she had only known by face and the few, vague details given by her father. Finally it seemed there existed a worthy arm-wrestling competitor. Plus she owned a bakery. A _bakery_! Mary could just imagine the amount of delicious cake she could get for free every day.

Both girls agreed their parents sounded perfect for them and perfect for each other. So the question was, what happened?

"Of course I want to know," Clara continued to say. "But what if we get caught and they send me back to Los Angeles and send you back to Boston?" Evident panic struck Clara's face as she halted. "Then we'll never find out anything! And we'll have to go pretend that we never met each other and that we don't know our parents are out there and _oh my god, oh my god_, what if we try to talk to them and –!" Impulsively, Mary slapped her sister in the face. Clara's eyes grew wide with shock, but she shut up.

"Snap out of it!" Mary hissed. "None of that is going to happen because we're awesome and there should be some crazy epic twin spy movie written about us. Okay?"

"Okay," Clara nodded, taking a deep breath. "Epic spy twins. Got it."

"Good, now c'mon!" Clara and Mary quietly tiptoed up to the computer lab. It was dark inside, locked and off-limits until September when the campgrounds would be used for after-school tutoring for a financially depressed middle school a few miles down the road. Mary slipped a hairpin out of her blonde ponytail and examined it.

"What are you doing?" Clara asked.

"Trying to figure out how I'm gonna pick a lock with this thing," Mary answered with slight frustration.

"Oh, give it here," Clara grabbed the pin out of Mary's hand and slipped it into the keyhole. With a few jiggles and flicks, the door clicked opened within seconds. Mary stared. "Mom taught me how to do that before I was even potty-trained."

"How come _you_ got to have the cool parent?" Mary complained as they entered the lab and flipped the lights on.

"Oh, stop, Dad sounds wonderful," Clara replied, meaning it wholeheartedly. "So, what's the plan?"

Mary turned on one of the high-tech Mac computers and waited patiently as it loaded. Both girls pulled a chair in front of it and watched the screen change colors and words. "We'll Zaplook them, obviously!"

"What's that going to do?"

"Don't you _ever_ read the internet?" Mary argued. "People eat up divorce stories. They're still talking about Brangelina and that was, like, twenty years ago!"

"But Mom and Dad aren't celebrities," Clara pointed out.

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Not really."

"Okay, then we're using mine." Clara watched as Mary typed 'Sam Puckett Freddie Benson' into the Zaplook search bar and hit enter.

There did not come upon any juicy divorce stories. However, they did find something.

"What the cheese is iCarly dot com?" Mary questioned.

"Who knows?" Clara shrugged. "But it's the first website the search gave us, so it must have _something_ to do with Mom and Dad. Click it!"

"Clicking!"

* * *

><p><em>Sam was never big on endings, happy or otherwise.<em>

_ It was why she tossed the book she needed to read for school under her bed halfway through the story, never to be viewed again. It was why she never liked to waste money seeing a movie (unless it was a lousy attempt to get closer to a certain dork). It was why sometimes she walked away mid-conversation._

_ Endings, they were so… final. And Sam liked wide, open space, plenty of room to stretch, loiter, and roam._

_ "And now," eighteen year-old Carly stepped closer to Freddie's camera, the show nearing its own ending. "The moment we've all been waiting for!"_

_ "Or dreading," Sam chirped in, meaning it._

_ "Or both!" Carly finished brightly. "The iCarly Graduation ceremony!" Sam hit a button on her remote and confetti fell from the ceiling as she and Carly danced around, cheering. Though deep down, Sam felt it, the truth, the raw-as-uncooked-meat, encompassing truth – she had nothing to celebrate about. Nah, nothing at all._

_The iCarly trio was dressed in graduation robes and hats – splatter-painted courtesy of Spencer – with iCarly's logo printed on the front. It was going to be Sam's last goodbye before going off to Boston to the friends she had loved so deeply even from the beginning. And last goodbyes, well, they were the worst endings of all time._

"_We had our high school graduation earlier this summer," Carly continued. "But tomorrow I'm off to UPenn, Freddie to Harvard, and Sam to BU, so this is really it." The two girls pushed their faces towards the camera._

"_It…" Sam creepily._

"_It." Carly repeated, equally as creepy._

"_It… it… it…" The two girls repeated over and over, moving their arms around. Freddie laughed from behind the camera. Sam smiled at him._

"_Please give a warm, chunky welcome our host, Spencer Shay!" Sam exclaimed. Spencer ran through the studio door, wearing a suit and smiling and waving like royalty, until he stopped abruptly._

"_Carly!" he yelled. "You told me I could enter to 'The Final Countdown'!"_

"_Sorry, I forgot!" she replied sheepishly._

"_Oh, suuuure!" Spencer said in a comical huff, marching over to the podium Freddie had constructed just for this momentous occasion. "Just like you forgot to give me back the PearPod you borrowed!"_

"_No, you set it on fire."_

"_Really?"_

"_Uh-huh."_

"_Oh," He straightened his tie. "Well, this is uncomfortable." A brief silence filled the air before Sam spoke again, the lack of words irritating her._

"_The ceremony?" she reminded Spencer._

"_Oh right!" He lifted a certificate from the podium and cleared his throat. Gibby took the camera so Freddie could take his place next to Sam. "When I call your name, please step forward and accept your certificate with the animal noise of your choice." For some reason, Spencer was speaking in a British accent. Sam couldn't help but snicker, but soon her smile faltered when she realized how much she would miss Carly's crazy older brother. How much she would miss lots of things. This did not go unnoticed by Freddie, and Freddie's notice did not go unnoticed by Sam. "Cahly Shay, who kept iCahly togethah." Carly gave her friends an excited grin and skipped towards her future, snatching the certificate from Spencer with a peppy, little 'oink!' before returning to her original spot._

"_Nice work, kid," Sam said softly._

"_Samanth – "_

"_Don't even think about it, Spence."_

_British Spencer gulped. "Sam Puckett, who kept iCahly interesting." Carly pushed Sam forward, who smirked and stomped to the podium, waiting for Spencer to hand her the certificate before howling like a coyote. She watched her two best friends laugh at the impression, and every ounce of her wanted to break down, right there, though she would never openly admit that to anyone, especially herself. She was no wimp. She could totally handle this with a straight face._

_Freddie, by process of elimination, was next, and last. "Freddie Benson," Spencer said, this time in his normal accent, because, all joking aside, this segment, and iCarly, would soon be coming to an end. "Who showed the world what we could do."_

"_I have to say," Freddie whispered to his blonde frenemy. "That was really profound, especially for Spencer." Then he was no longer at her side, stepping towards the podium, reaching for his own certificate handed to him. Sam wondered if he would ever remember that she had printed the certificates, and all the honors on them. Freddie made a final, gorgeous squawking noise before Gibby placed the camera down, set to shut off in thirty seconds, and all five of them stood before it, waving and smiling so hard it hurt._

"_Later, peeps!" Gibby said._

"_Take care!" Carly called._

"_We love you guys!" Freddie chimed in._

"_Don't pet any hobos!" Sam cautioned._

"_Always wear flame-retardant underwear!" said Spencer._

"_If you love someone, tell them!" Carly finished, marking the first and only serious piece of advice ever in the history of iCarly. And it happened within the last ten seconds. Carly made a point of looking at her two stubborn best friends, who made a point of looking literally everywhere but at each other._

"_In five, four, three, two…" Freddie counted out slowly, until the red light on the camera faded away._

_Five totally different people stood among each other in an understood silence, unsure what to do next. Did they need to mourn? Celebrate? Pretend?_

"_I made brownies," Carly announced eventually, cutting the heavy silence with her quiet, sincere voice. "They're cooling off downstairs."_

"_Sweet!" Gibby exclaimed, rubbing his stomach. "I'm game!"_

"_Race you down there!" Spencer screamed, and he and Gibby charged out the door. Carly's eyes widened._

"_No, wait, you guys!" she cried, running after them. The door slammed behind her. "The last time you guys raced we had to remodel the kitchen!" Now only Sam and Freddie remained. The spacious studio suddenly seemed outrageously cramped._

_Great. Wonderful. She was alone with the dork, something that more or less hadn't happened since the end of their junior year when Freddie had been trying to convince Sam to go for Brad and Sam had done the unthinkable – went all guerrilla warfare on his lips - to finally prove it wasn't Brad she had such strong, infuriating, terrifying feelings for, but him. _

_It had always been him._

_Even now, as much as she would have liked to say she wanted to run, she never did. She had always felt this compulsion to be close to him, to spend time with him. It was difficult to step around the huge elephant in their friendship the way she had all year, all summer, even. Difficult, but not impossible._

_Sam rocked back and forth on her red Converse All-Stars, staring at the ceiling and letting out a subtle sigh. Freddie stood a few feet away, looking around the room in a slightly awkward but profound fashion that made Sam want to pounce on him in a non-violent kind of way._

"_I'm really gonna miss this place," Freddie broke the silence, as he stepped to Sam's side, still taking the studio in, as if he would forget all about it otherwise._

"_Thanks for sharing," Sam responded dryly, for lack of a better thing to say._

_He turned towards her, eyebrow cocked in his own, adorable way. "Aren't you?"_

_Sam shrugged. She knew she'd be back here. It was who would be here, who would be with her, that worried her most. "Yeah, I guess."_

"_I missed you this year," he suddenly admitted, making Sam's aching heart pump wildly in her chest. "You… well, you weren't really around much. And then the summer, I was away, and you were away…" He looked over at Sam as if he were afraid she would recreate whatever she saw on WWE this week. "It kind of sucked eggs."_

"_I've been around," Sam forced out, trying not to look at him because she knew if she did for long enough, then that would be it. She would never be able to hop that train to Boston in one piece. "I say we go get some of those chocolate puppies before – "Before the end. Sam cringed at the thought of leaving her best friend. Of leaving her bicepy, sweet-voiced, oblivious dork._

_She finally allowed herself to look at him and was struck as she always had been by how full of innocence, full of understanding, his eyes were. They made her ten shades of disoriented because it was like he could see everything she was thinking. She ripped her eyes away from his beautiful ones nervously, trying, trying oh, so hard not to say it. She vaguely heard him tentatively agree with her half-statement, and then walking away. Chiz, holy chiz, she was losing him. He was walking away. She was losing him. The thought made her so painfully desperate that she couldn't hold it in anymore._

"_Remember last year?" she spat out. The words rolled off her tongue like a persistent waterfall. She heard Freddie stop at the door and felt his eyes on her, but did not dare turn around. "When I kissed you out of totally nowhere and you couldn't even talk you were so messed up and I told you it was a belated April Fools prank, spilled water on your head, and ran after Carly to yell at her for spying?"_

_Freddie seemed pleasantly surprised by the change in topic. "Some of that rings a bell. Why?" This question infuriated her because he definitely knew why._

"_Well, it's just…" Sam was fumbling her words, and she hated it. She hated giving him the power, being the underdog in their game that should have ended the night she kissed him but that she refused to let go of because it was so much easier o just hate the stupid nub. "I… um…" She gave up her clearly heartfelt speech and sighed. "Never mind. I forgot."_

_He came up behind her carefully and put a hand on her shoulder, sending chills up and down her spine. "I know you love me, Sam," The way he said it wasn't cocky, or powerful, or dismissive. His words were gentle, soothing. And they weren't a shock because she knew he knew. That maybe he was waiting. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to because I already know." She never confirmed nor denied this statement, though the answer was amazingly clear to both teens. Freddie whirled Sam around to face him, taking her by surprise. "Listen, I know you think I'm a nub and a geek and all that chiz," he rambled, looking so nervous that it made Sam want to smile. "B-but I'm really not too bad. I'm actually kind of fun sometimes. BU and Harvard are in the same city, you know…" As if I didn't know that when I made the choice, Sam sighed in her mind. This was an all-time low for her – falling for a dork. "We could… we could try. If you wanna." Their eyes met. Time seemed to stop, just for them. And for a moment, just a moment, their lives were side by side, he was so close that she could touch him. They weren't scrambling in opposite directions, weren't stumbling over doubts or confusion or unsaid, and they most certainly weren't Carly's bickering sidekicks with awful, awful timing._

_Except they were._

_ "Dude," Sam shook her head, as she twisted her lips. "I care about you way too much to do that to you." The words physically hurt her to say, and she never got to see if they physically hurt him to hear because right then, she broke their gaze and headed for the door. "Have a kickin' time at Harvard, Fredwad. Maybe I'll see you at a Sox game or something."_

_ 'I love you.' - The three most important words in the English language. Keeping those brave enough together, and those afraid enough apart._

* * *

><p>"<em>Raaaaandom dancing!<em>" a booming voice sounded from the website, and Mary and Clara watched Carly and Sam dance around like maniacs.

"Jeez," Mary shook her head with a smile. "Our parents were web stars in high school! Together!"

"And that's my Aunt Carly!" Clara pointed to the smiley brunette on the screen. "Well, she's not actually my Aunt, but she and Mom go way back. She visits all the time."

"She looks kinda familiar," Mary added, squinting. "I think I've gone out to dinner with her and her kids once or twice with Dad."

"_GRAHHH PEOPLE IN MY LOBBY!"_

"This is hysterical," Clara giggled, watching the next segment in line. Her smile faded a bit. "Why would they hide this from us?"

"Probably the same reason they would hide _us_ from us," Mary rolled her eyes.

"This is too weird," Clara continued to watch the hilarious web show.

"_Do you wanna break something else?" _Carly asked.

"_Like Freddie's arm, Freddie's leg, Freddie's face?" _Sam offered.

"_Aw, Sam," _Freddie said fake-sweetly from behind the camera_. "If you're in love with me just say so!"_

"_Nyahh!"_

"_Nyahh!"_

"Yeah, how could these two get a divorce?" Mary piped in. "They're like the epitome of love-hate relationships!"

"I wish we could do something," Clara sighed, resting her chin in her hands. And that was when it came to Mary. The plan. The plan of the century. The plan that would top anything she had ever concocted before.

"Clara," she said quickly, pausing the web show. "You want to meet Dad, right?"

"So, so much."

"And of course, I totally want to meet Mom," Mary went on, her mind racing a mile a minute. "So here's what I'm thinking. We're identical, right?"

"Right…" Clara was really unsure where her twin was going with this.

"And we want to meet our long-lost parents while at the same time get them back together," Mary spilled her plan, grinning deviously. "So let's switch places."

Clara's eyes widened. "Are you _crazy_?"

"Not anymore than usual!" Mary exclaimed, bouncing in her seat from excitement. "I'll go to LA as you, and you'll go to Boston as me."

"We have different colored hair."

"It's called hair dye, Clara."

"We don't know anything about our respective lives!"

"We've got two more weeks to learn everything we need to know."

"And what if they figure it out?"

"Then they'll have to switch us back, obviously," Mary shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "By arranging a time to meet. Face-to-face."

"You're a genius," Clara whispered, mystified. "An evil one, but a genius nonetheless."

"So tomorrow," Mary stated, a feeling of Benson family revolution in the air. "Let the games begin."

**A/N: In my stupidity, in the last chapter I said that Mary and Clara were born in 1998. That is false. They were born in 2017 and the chapter has been edited accordingly. Sorry for that, guys.**

**Recently I was asked about reviving my Youtube account… I was wondering what you guys thought of that. If enough of you guys want it, I will definitely try to revive it sometime in the near future.**

**I wish iOMG part two wasn't so far away. Haha. But I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for your wonderful reviews! You guys make me so, so happy to be back.**

**-Colors**

**PS: Is this story showing up on the recently updated iCarly page? Because for me it doesn't seem to be, and it's a bit annoying. :/**


	5. Trapter 5

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.**

iTrap

Trapter 5

"I don't think I can do this, Mary," A newly blonde-headed Clara Puckett stammered, as she stood next to her sister in front of the mirror in one of Camp Sparkle Lake's glamorous Port-O-Potties. Thanks to a care package containing temporary hair dye from Gina's dad, which she asked for without question as a favor to the two girls, and to an extra-long shower the night before, Clara and Mary's hair colors were swapped to almost perfection. "I'm going to hurl. You are very momentarily going to see my digested breakfast."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mary patted Clara on the back. "First of all, we've got limited breathing room in this stupid thing, so if you stink up the air with your barf I will personally wreck that pretty face of yours." Clara shot a glare Mary's way, indicating she was displeased. And dead serious. "Second of all, you can _totally_ do this. _We_ can totally do this. You know everything you need to know." Truthfully, Mary was nervous, too. Extremely so. But if both of them panicked everything would fall apart, and Mary was used to being the tough one.

Clara took a deep breath and nodded fervently. She handed her glasses over – which she had cleverly replaced with plain, old glass yesterday morning – and slowly, shaking put her contacts in. She absolutely hated to wear them because they always stung her eyes, but it was more than worth a few minutes of eye grief. Once they were in, she flinched in pain, but staring right back at her in the mirror was Mary. The real Mary's eyes widened behind the fake glasses.

"Wow," they both said in unison.

"We," Clara gasped. "Are _good_. It should be illegal to be so masterful."

"And attractive," Mary added, with a smirk.

From outside came a harsh pounding on the door. "Could you hurry up in there? It's an emergency!"

"Oh, quit whining!" Mary snapped at the person. "Use the woods, it's what our ancestors did!"

"Okay," Clara turned to her sister, knowing their parents could arrive any minute now. "Let's review one more time to make sure we remember. Where does Mom work?"

"She owns Mama's Bakery of Awesome in LA," Mary repeated, like clockwork, for she had spent two weeks memorizing Clara's organized list. "And Dad?"

"Mitchell High School in Boston. Mom's schedule?"

"Needs to be wake up every morning at seven from Monday to Saturday, usually by her daughter. I'm supposed to cook bacon and eggs for the both of us if I am awake first. On Sundays, she sleeps 'til practically two P.M. Dad's schedule, go!"

"He's being paid to organize some paperwork from the school this summer," Clara stated, thinking. "So he's home all day. He drinks coffee a lot. Wakes up early, goes to sleep early. My curfew is ten P.M. and I always break it."

Sam's favorite color (red), Freddie's favorite book (His camera manual), Sam's weakness (lack of manners). Freddie's pet peeve (people who do not have manners). Back and forth they went, through all the facts, all the procedures, all the daily habits and antics and normality that defined each half-family, that each twin basked in like sunlight because these typical and irregular quirks were missing puzzle pieces of their lives finally slipping back into place.

Mary and Clara inhaled and exhaled simultaneously.

"Repeat after me," Mary said, staring at both reflections. "We can do this."

"We can do this," Clara stated immediately after. Her heart was going berserk, but somehow, now, she felt ready.

They emerged from the Port-O-Potty, receiving confused glances from the three campers standing in line, doing potty dances.

They said their goodbyes, to counselors, to campers, knowing that if it weren't for this summer, they never would have discovered the other, and that in itself sparkled brilliantly.

"Mary Benson!" a counselor with a bullhorn shouted from the parking lot. "Mary Benson, your ride is here!" Clara's heart sped up, her confidence quickly draining and her incessant worry rising rapidly. She turned to Mary, ready to express her fear, but she didn't have time because suddenly she just wanted to hug her one and only sister.

"Bye, Mary," she whispered, gripping Mary so tightly that she probably couldn't breathe properly.

"Bye, sis," Mary whispered back. They pulled apart, tears brimming Clara's eyes. "Dude, wipe those tears away. Mary Benson is allergic to tears." Clara laughed and wiped at her eyes. "You have my number, right?"

"Yes, in about fifty different places," Clara clarified, smiling meekly.

"Go meet your dad, Crazy," Mary giggled, patting Clara on the shoulder. With a lift of her bag, and one final nervous glance in Mary's direction, "Mary Benson" was off.

Freddie sat in his car, arguing passively into his cell phone. "Rose, just be reasonable for a sec, alright?"

"No, no I will not be reasonable for a sec!" the fluid-speaking female on the other line snapped, clearly displeased. Freddie sighed. "We were supposed to have a wonderfully romantic afternoon by the beach, and now you're telling me you're in New York?"

"I'm picking up Mary," he tried once again to explain.

"And that's _wonderful_," Rose pressed on. Freddie noticed she used that word quite often. "But couldn't it wait until tomorrow? I had this whole picnic planned and – "

"No," Freddie shook his head. "No, it can't. Aren't you excited to meet her?"

Silence. A cough. "Yes, I am positively over the moon to meet your daughter, Fredward! Really! I just think – "

A counselor stopped in front of his car and dropped two bags, and Freddie caught sight of Mary heading his way, another bag in hand. "Oh, there she is! Listen, we'll talk later, alright?" He hung up the phone and stepped out of the car, elated. "Hey, there's my delinquent camper!"

Clara couldn't contain herself. There he was – her Dad. Her _Dad_. _Her_ Dad. Alive. Breathing. Standing. Standing right there. Smiling at her with matching eyes. Waiting for her. "Daddy?"

Freddie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Mary hadn't called him that since the age of seven. Nonetheless, he smiled. "Were you expecting the President?"

She dropped her suitcase with a thud and sprinted toward him, the wind whipping her faux-blonde hair, stinging her eye contacts. "DADDY!" She pounced on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso tightly. He stumbled back in surprise. Clara never wanted to let go. She had never felt so safe in her whole life.

"Whoa!" Freddie laughed, patting his daughter on the back. "What's up, kiddo?"

"I'm just…" Clara moved her head so she was facing her father. She saw herself in him. She saw everything she was missing in him. _You're supposed to be Mary, _she thought to herself. With that thought, she removed herself and planted her feet back on solid ground, mustering up an awkward smirk and crossing her arms. "It's good to see you, Dad."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Mary?" Freddie joked. Clara smiled sheepishly. "So, are we gonna just stand here, or are we gonna go home and eat those ham and cheddar sandwiches I made for us?"

"My favorite!" Clara said excitedly, happy she was able to put her studying of Mary's life into action. It was like knowing the right answer on a test. "Thanks, Dad! Let's go!" Clara hopped into the car (the back seat – another rule she remembered from Mary's guidance) and, as much as she appreciated some good meat, appreciated the new car smell in contrast to her Mom's red convertible.

Freddie watched her, perplexed. There was something… different about Mary. Yes, something noticeably different. Was it possible that Camp Sparkle Lake had made her more… polite? If so, it was definitely worth the money and distance, at least in his book.

"So tell me," Freddie began as he got back behind the wheel and started the car up, checking his blind spots and mirrors meticulously. "How was it?"

Clara tried to think of something Mary would say. "It was pretty chill," she decided on, resting her head against the headrest.

After being up all night with worry of what it would be like to finally come face to face with her father, Clara slept soundly the whole way home.

* * *

><p>Mary was still waiting, the glasses on her nose starting to itch, when out of nowhere a tall, blonde monster attacked her with a hug.<p>

"Gotcha!" the woman Mary immediately recognized as her mom shouted, picking Mary up and spinning her around. She really had missed her daughter. July was lonely, nice and warm, but lonely. Mary screamed in both shock and delight, deciding this was the best greeting she had ever received in her life. Ever.

"Mom!" The word so felt foreign and beautiful on her tongue that she had to say it again. "Mom! Put me down!"

"Sorry, kid," Sam smiled and set Mary down. "Just making up for being late. Again. Sorry 'bout that. There was an ice cream cake related emergency at MBA." Mary's stomach grumbled at the mention of ice cream cake.

Mary shrugged. "S'all good." _Better late than never._

Sam eyed her child. "You seem pretty lax about this…normally you'd have found a phone and called the police, your grandparents, _and _Carly by now." _Twice._

"Oh." _Chiz, I forgot. Clara's a worrywart_. "Oh. Yeah! Wow, I was freaking _terrified_."

"I tried to call the camp to let 'em know I would be late, but no one answered," Sam complained, crossing her arms. "So disorganized and unprofessional. Alright, let's get these bags to the… wait, where did I park the car…?"

"Try the parking lot," Mary joked, already in love with her mom's persona. Sam squinted at her.

"Did you just give me attitude?" Sam asked, her face unreadable. Mary froze.

"Um," she said cleverly. "Yeah?"

After a few moments, Sam beamed. "That's my girl. Now let's roll. We've got a flight to catch." Mary could hardly believe it. Now this, _this_ was new to her. Praise for being sassy? Her mom was too amazing for words. Mary listened intently to Sam's stories as they rolled Mary's suitcases to the car, as if in seconds her mom was going to disappear and she needed to hear her voice while she still could. Her voice was spirited and familiar, and Mary wondered if Sam ever sang her lullabies or rocked her to sleep. If she even knew Mary Benson at all.

Sam and Mary jumped into the car – literally, because Sam was too lazy to unlock the doors. Mary was ecstatic that for once she got to sit up front. Sam started the engine. Paramore, an alternative band from a decade ago or two, blasted from the radio speakers.

"So how's ol' Sparkle Lake?" Sam asked as she pulled out of the parking lot, going a bit over the speed limit. "Sparkly? Lake-prevalent?"

Mary was not one to sit around. She was here to meet her mom, without a doubt, but also, she was here to put a plan into action. There was no time to lose. "It was really awesome," Mary replied honestly, the gears in her mind turning. "I met some really interesting people. Like this girl. Her name's Mary." Mary turned to her mom, waiting for a reaction.

"Hey, that's cool!" Sam responded, happy her daughter had made friends. "I love the name Mary."

"Is it one of your favorite names?" Mary pressed.

"I'd say so," Sam responded.

"If you got married again and had another daughter, would you name her that?" Mary watched as Sam became visibly paler.

"Clara, what's with the twenty questions?" she demanded.

"I was just asking."

"Well, don't. I'm driving." Sam said quickly. "Jeez, what're they feeding you at this camp, rudeness juice?"

"I don't see why that question was such a big deal," Mary continued, being one that never knew when to quit. "It's not like the name Mary has any sort of significance to you. Right?" Sam almost ran a red light but stopped abruptly just in time.

"Clara!" she snapped. "Please. Drop it." Maybe Clara would have sunken into her seat, but Mary didn't know how to be afraid of authority. Sam sighed as the light turned green. "Sorry, kid. You know I don't like yelling at you."

Mary decided to end the discussion, at least for now. It was so surreal, being here, being with her mom. She watched her mumble angrily at people who cut her off, watched her reach into the glove compartment at stop signs to stuff a piece of ham into her mouth. They were two peas in a pod, without a doubt.

"If I had another daughter," Sam suddenly said, and Mary could see, really, truly _see_, the hurt in her mom's heart, just for a spark of a moment. And just for that same moment, Mary was a little girl, and Sam, Sam was her hero. "She would definitely be a Mary."

Mary's own heart soared. "Good to know, Mom." _Mom._ She would never tire of that word.

* * *

><p>"Mary," a blurry, distanced voice prodded, as Clara turned over in her sleep. "C'mon, Mary, up and at 'em. Rise and shine."<p>

"Who?" Clara moaned, forgetting entirely where she was.

"We're home!" Freddie said brightly, which was not the answer to Clara's question. Clara slowly opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. She was in the backseat of a car with a roof, outside an average-looking family-style home that looked familiar because it probably was, to some extent. Suddenly everything came back to her in an instant: her sister, the hair dye, her father's arms. She sat up abruptly.

"Sorry I fell asleep," Clara told her Dad, stretching. "The ride home must have been so boring!"

"It's okay," Freddie told her honestly. "It gave me some good thinking time."

"So what first?" Clara hopped out of the car, excited for the father-daughter bonding she never had. "I don't know about you, but I am quite hungry. We should sit outside together and eat those sandwiches!"

"That sounds… great, Mary!" Freddie agreed, seemingly both confused and touched by Mary's anticipation to spend time with him. His phone buzzed, and he dug into his pockets and pulled it out to check it. His expression changed a little. "And, actually, this is perfect timing, because a friend of mine has just arrived that I really want to you meet." Clara's face fell a bit. She was genuinely excited for alone time with him.

"Okay," she said simply. "Hopefully he's not a geek like you." She was proud of that Mary-like comment. _I definitely deserve an Oscar for this._

"Actually," Freddie opened the gate that leads to the backyard. "It's _she_."

Sitting at a picnic table, long, pantyhose legs crossed, in a little black dress, smothered in thick, blonde hair, sunlight, and heavy makeup was…

"Mary, this is Rose." Freddie introduced the twenty-something woman with a stupid smile. Rose stood up slowly and waltzed over.

"Oh Fredward, she's just the cutest thing!" Rose said, pinching Clara's cheek. "It's wonderful to meet you, Mara. Just wonderful. I've heard so much about you." She grabbed Freddie's arm and stared into his eyes seductively, playing with his hair. Clara made a face. She could have projectile vomited right then and there.

"It's _Mary_," Clara corrected her with skeptical eyes.

"Oops, my apologies," she sighed, patting Clara on the head. "I can be such an airhead sometimes." She giggled. "I don't know what I would do without your father. He's my rock."

Freddie shrugged, obviously pleased. "I do what I can."

"Let's get to those sandwiches, shall we?" Rose said sweetly, tapping Freddie on the nose and walking out the gate towards the front of the house. Clara waited until she was no longer within earshot before making any comments.

"Friends?" Clara said in disbelief. "I'm not five years old anymore, Dad."

"I know, I know," he said softly. "I just… I didn't know how you would take it. I wanted to deliver the news gently. You know, avoid limbs breaking and such."

_Okay Clara, remain calm… no need to panic…_ "At least tell me it's not serious." Freddie gulped, looking away. "Dad?"

"Mary," he sighed, fearing the worst, reaction-wise. "Rose and I are engaged."

* * *

><p>"<em>Jack and I are over." That was the first thing Sam Puckett said when Freddie opened his dorm room door. It was nearly one in the morning, his roommate undisturbed by the fragile few knocks (he listened to his PearPod whilst sleeping, making him an impossibly heavy sleeper). Everyone was exhausted; midterms were coming up, after all. In fact, the only reason Freddie was still up was because he had a deadly Chemistry final the next morning. He hadn't expected any visitors, especially one that claimed to hate him (though deep down, Freddie still suspected otherwise) and went out of her way to make his Harvard experience as torturous and, surprisingly, extremely fun, as possible.<em>

_But there she was. In Girly Cow pajama pants and an oversized university sweatshirt, damp from the rain coming down outside, shivering. His first thought was that he wanted her to be warm. His second thought was that he wanted to be the one keeping her warm. And then what she said actually registered in his mind._

_Jack Tyler. He and Sam had had some sort of thing, that much he could confirm. Sam never gave him too many details, which should have been better because part of him just didn't want to know, but it drove the rest of him absolutely crazy and that was probably why she did it. Sometimes he saw them together, holding hands or playing basketball or studying. The fact that Sam would study for him filled him with more jealousy than he would care to admit._

_Regardless, Jack was a player, and a boneheaded one at that. If Sam had been there last year she would have known about the Jack Tyler scandal in which he successfully dated four girls at the same time without any of them finding out for a good five months. Of course he tried to warn her, but she waved him away because she just loved defying him._

"_Can I come in?" Sam asked, slightly impatient, snapping Freddie out of his thoughts. Immediately he felt like an idiot, standing there staring at her instead of letting her inside._

"'_Course," Freddie muttered, turning red, and opened the door wider so Sam could step in. "Here, lemme get you some dry clothes."_

"_Nah, don't worry about it," she brushed him off, clutching her arms. "It's not too bad."_

_Freddie stopped rummaging around and gave her a look. "How 'bout a blanket?"_

"_Fine, fine," she rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her face. Freddie yanked the comforter off his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She took a seat on his floor, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, and Freddie sat opposite her. He willed her to speak, and couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she looked from the glow of the hallway light. No matter how mean she was, vicious she was, lazy she was, rude she was, this girl – this girl sitting right in front of him – was who she really was. She was just afraid to show it. But once again, there she was, and Freddie felt infinitely special._

_To Jack, Sam was one of five. To Freddie, she was one in a million._

"_Just say it already," Sam sighed, already frustrated with him for no apparent reason._

"_Huh?"_

"_Just tell me you told me so!" she clarified, her blue eyes in fight mode, drawing him in. She swung the blanket at him. "Do it, you stupid nub!"_

"_No," Freddie shot back defensively. "I won't. 'Cause I'm not a jerk." And sad Sam was back._

"_I should've listened to you," she mumbled, looking away._

"_What happened?" Freddie asked softly._

"_Caught him with another chick," she answered, and Freddie could tell how embarrassed she was about the situation. She cared a lot about how people saw her, though she would never admit it. "Followed him. Caught him with a second other chick. Tripped him, told him it was over, and poured my Peppy Cola on his face."_

"_Atta girl, Puckett," Freddie clapped her on the shoulder, grinning. "Way to show the scumbag who's boss."_

"_But it was such a waste of Peppy Cola!" she cried out, angry with herself. "Ugh, I am so stupid! So freaking stupid!"_

"_I mean, you're going to Harvard," Freddie chimed in. "You can't be __**that **__stupid." Sam glared. "Sorry, sorry, not the point, okay."_

"_Anyway," she continued, folding her knees into her chest. "Carly's abroad in Italy, and… I don't know. I just needed somebody. And I don't know how to need somebody, what I'm supposed to do. So… I came and found you."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Yeah," Freddie watched Sam struggle with her words. He moved himself forward, hoping she wouldn't notice. "And… so then you opened the door, and I kind of realized something."_

"_Oh?" Freddie commented, interested. "And what might that be?"_

"_I realized that I didn't just need __**somebody**__," she looked straight at him, with uncertainty and masked fear that captivated him. She was so vulnerably beautiful that Freddie had to literally sit on his hands to stop himself from moving closer to her. "I just need __**you**__."_

_And he needed her, too. Man, did he need her. Everyday, all the time, for everything, forever._

_Game over._

_Impulsively, he grabbed her face and collided his lips with hers. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening this kiss that would seal everything. She fell onto her back and let herself be crushed under his weight. She tasted like strawberries and ham. His head was spinning, spinning, spinning, and was this really happening? Could something so incredible, someone so incredible, really be happening to him?_

_Freddie pulled away from the kiss and rolled to Sam's side. They both rested their heads in their hands and smirked at each other._

"_Sam, go out with me," Freddie practically begged. "Be my girlfriend. Please? I promise you'll never have to waste a Peppy Cola on me." Angrily, Sam punched him in the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"_

"_That," she answered, her anger sliding away to reveal that beautiful smile again. "Was for taking so long. Dork."_

**A/N: I apologize if the part where Mary meets her mom was rushed, or just overall bad. It was, in all honesty, extremely difficult to write. But in the end I pulled through, so I dedicate this chapter of my story to my mom.**

**If you've decided that Mary and Clara kind of suck at acting like each other, you're supposed to feel that way. I think it's hysterical how Clara takes it so seriously and Mary's just like, whatever.**

**So yeah, I hope you enjoyed this "Trapter" and you'll be hearing from me again soon! Love you all!**

**-Colors**


	6. Trapter 6

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.**

iTrap

Trapter 6

"He's _what?_" Mary whisper-shrieked at Clara into her cell phone, an unsettling combination of fury and panic boiling in her gut. Her mom was currently in the shower, but as she'd learned from Clara, she had ears like a hawk, so Mary needed to keep the conversation volume as low as possible. Though she had a feeling it was going to become pretty dang difficult.

"En – "

"Don't say it again!" Mary hissed from inside Clara's unnervingly tidy bedroom. Her brain was starting to hurt. She honest to God just wanted to punch something. Preferably her father's face.

"Sorry, sorry!" Clara apologized quickly. Mary heard her sister sigh on the other end and instantly felt bad. She hadn't meant to take her anger out on Clara, but her Dad was way too far away to be verbally or physically abused at this point in time, and Mary was losing it.

"How could he do this to us?" Mary demanded, her voice buzzing with betrayal. "How could he do this to _Mom_?"

"I have no idea!" Clara responded. "But Mary, Mary, Rose is… just… awful!"

"Is she a wanted criminal?" Mary asked hopefully. "A drug dealer? A computer-smashing enthusiast? A hobo?"

"No, but she's way too young for him, way too made up, and says 'wonderful' every five seconds," Clara ranted. "All afternoon she went on and on about how 'wonderful' it is that we've finally met, how 'wonderful' the weather is, and wow, it's the first day of August, isn't that just '_wonderful'_…"

"Dude, I wanna puke just hearing about it." Seriously. Mary could feel Sam's spectacular bacon and egg brunch begging for a messy encore.

"You haven't even heard the worst part," Clara whispered.

"Oh man, don't even tell me." Mary waited impatiently for Clara to tell her. "Okay, just say it!"

"She was eating a ham and cheddar sandwich with her pinky out," Clara said with clear disgust. "Her _pinky out_!"

Mary was rendered speechless. "What the cheese is Dad _thinking_?"

"What do I do?" Clara asked, panicking.

"Break them up, that's what!" Mary replied forcefully. "By any means necessary!"

"How?"

Mary heard the shower shut off next door. "You're the smart twin, you'll figure it out!"

"But - !"

"Meanwhile, I'll grind some info out of Mom, look for some signs and clues and such," Mary interrupted what was probably another worrisome Clara comment. She didn't need that right now. She needed to keep things sounding straight and simple. Break up Dad and Rose, yank pieces of the past out from under Mom. It was easy. It was doable. It _had_ to be. "Stay strong, sis. I gotta go, Mom's done with her shower. Bye!"

"But _Mary_ - !"

"Love you!" Mary hit 'end' on her phone before Clara could get another word out.

"'Sup Clarabear!" Sam called out cheerfully as she strode past Clara's bedroom in a robe, a towel twisted around her blonde mass of hair. "Who were you talkin' to?"

"Friend from school!" Mary replied, trying to keep her voice even despite how infuriated she was.

"Clara, it's summer!" Mary heard the door to Sam's room shut. "I don't wanna hear you prepping for Science Olympiad already – let's have some fun! I'll be ready in fifteen, then we can hit the road!"

"Alright!" Mary agreed. She exited Clara's room and glanced around the Puckett's two-bedroom apartment, looking for something, anything, to get her mind off her Dad and his stupid, intruding, unwanted – ugh, dare she say it – fiancé.

The main room of the apartment was totally messy, a sharp contrast to Clara's perfectly kept room. Pizza boxes strewn about the table in the corner where the little kitchen lived, Fatcake wrappers scattered about, pillows of the bright blue couch off-kilter and ripped, the air from outside the open window blowing papers around. Mary briefly wondered if it was always like this or if it only became this way because Clara left, before her eyes fell upon what was supposed to be a bookshelf.

(Really, it was a shelf containing about five books, a framed and signed picture of the world's fattest priest, expired grocery store coupons, random jars of sprinkles, and seasons one through ten of _Girly Cow_, out of order.)

One of the few books on the shelf, Mary noticed, was a Ridgeway High School Yearbook – for the class of 2012. She carelessly yanked it off the shelf, letting the other books – all cookbooks – fall in to fill its place. She blew on it's cover and dust immediately encompassed her vision. _Jeez, I guess Mom's not so big on memory lane…_

The Yearbook was simple, simpler than they were made now. The student faces sat contentedly in little boxes. They were what they were.

Mary found her dad first. Page two, bottom left. _Fredward Benson, Vice-President of AV Club, member of Honors Society, Science Club, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." –Eleanor Roosevelt. Thanks to all my buds and my mom. Gonna miss this place. iCarly forever! _written under his cheeky-grinning school photo. Somebody wrote "_WRONG, I can!_" next to his quote.

_What a dork_, Mary thought with a small smile. She missed him so much.

She turned through a couple more pages until she reached the P's, spotting a newly familiar, annoyed face. _Samantha Puckett, member of Permanent Detention, "Move it or lose it." So I can write whatever I want here and it'll show up in the yearbook? Sweet!...Bacon rocks. iCarly forever! _Mary couldn't help but think that forever was shorter than most people thought.

Suddenly, she realized what she should really be looking for. _Signatures, signatures, where are the signatures… _The very last two pages were packed to the brim with messages for Sam. Inside jokes, sentiments, vows to keep in touch. But Mary was only looking for one.

_Sam,_

_ So I guess this is it, huh? I mean, yeah, of course I'm going to see you whenever we do iCarly this summer, but no more spontaneous wedgies in the hallway. No more spitballs at the back of my head. No more spoiled lunch in my backpack. No more arm-wrestling matches or getting my pudding cup stolen or playing meat golf after your detention lets out. It's so weird._

_ You can deny it all you want, Puckett (and I know you will), but we've got a seriously awesome friendship going on. Sometimes I want to hit you with a hammer, but most of the time, I dunno what I'd do without you._

_ Have a great summer. I'll see ya around. And remember: "hate" you more._

_ Dorkily yours, _

_Freddie_

Mary decided that whoever said love was mutual weirdness definitely knew what they were talking about.

"Ready!" Sam hopped out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Mary shut the yearbook and placed it back on the shelf at what could only be described as ninja-like speed. "C'mon, kid, let's get rollin'!" Sam grabbed her car keys and bolted into the hallway. By the time Mary raced out after her, Sam was already beckoning her into the elevator, which made Mary bouncy and excited. She was going to spend the entire afternoon and many entire afternoons to come with her _Mom_. It was almost to good to be true.

"So where are we going?" Mary asked as she shut the door to the passenger's seat of the convertible.

"The mini-golf place, obviously!" Sam answered with a laugh. "You were only gone for a month! Don't tell me you forgot about our summer tradition already." Mary worked through her memory, trying to recall anything that had to do with mini-golf on that overly organized list Clara gave her, but unfortunately, Mary was not as great of a memorizer as Clara and couldn't remember a thing.

"Whoops, my bad," Mary laughed, trying to be convincing. "It slipped my mind for a sec." This time around, Sam was blasting Panic! At The Disco. Mary let the window down and breathed in LA. It was insanely sunny and gorgeous outside, and they passed some type of museum or theater at least every few minutes. She could see why so many stars dwelled about. She could see why Sam decided to come here. Lots and lots of distractions.

Finally, Sam pulled into The Mini-Golf Palace's parking lot – crookedly, much to Mary's amusement – and shut the engine off. "Alright, Clara, you go get the cooler out of the trunk, I'll get us clubs."

Mary pulled herself out of the car and made her way over to the trunk. When she opened it, just as her mom said, she found a red and blue cooler. Probably holding their lunch or something along those lines. Mary hoisted the cooler out, closed the trunk, and carried it over to where Sam was paying for golf supplies.

"Oh, dear lord," the man at the counter said, clearly unhappy and slightly afraid. "Not you two again."

"Didja miss us?" Sam asked with a smirk.

"I'm assuming you're not interested in renting golf balls, too?" The man showed a glimmer of hope when he saw Sam ponder the question. Mary remained genuinely confused.

"Nope!" Sam finally said, smiling. "We're good!" The guy slumped his shoulders.

"Enjoy your day at The Palace," he muttered, and then said something under his breath about needing a new job. Sam saluted him, grabbed the golf clubs, handed Mary one, and headed for the first hole.

"Wait," Mary stopped her. "I don't get it. How are we going to play mini-golf without golf balls?" Sam burst out laughing.

"Good one, Clara!" she giggled, patting Mary on the back. Her laughter grew. "'How are we going to play without golf balls?' Ha! I think that camp made you funnier! Now, bust that baby open!" She was referring to the cooler at their feet. "Mama's ready to win!"

Mary bent down and lifted the lid of the cooler to reveal two dozen pieces of spherical meat. Instantly, something clicked in her mind: "_No more arm-wrestling matches or getting my pudding cup stolen or playing meat golf after your detention lets out." Meat golf! We're playing meat golf! _Mary's heart pounded from excitement. This was her chance.

* * *

><p><em> "This is definitely illegal," Freddie announced to his blonde-headed frenemy one afternoon the summer before their junior year of high school. It was their first Carly-less summer, forcing them to spend much more time together than their lives normally called for.<em>

_Sam stood a few feet ahead, practicing her putts for hole one of Seattle Mini-Golf Land. It was a relatively simple one, straight with the target hole at the top of a somewhat steep hill at the end. A trusty meatball sat patiently in front of the head of her golf club, ready for action._

_ Sam shook her head and clucked her tongue. __**What a doofus.**__ "Oh dork, dork, dork. My naïve, stupid dork. Zaplook it. Seriously. Where does it say you're not allowed to use meatballs on a mini-golf course?" She knew she had him there._

_ Freddie opened his mouth, prepared to attack Sam with his super impressive argument – until he realized he didn't have one. __**Aw, noodles**__. "Nowhere." He answered grudgingly. _

_ Sam smirked. She loved to win. "And with that, let the games begin." She easily hit the meatball straight up the hill – a hole-in-one. Freddie stood there, baffled, once again, by the girl in front of him. __**How does she do it?**__ "Your turn, Fredface."_

* * *

><p>"You go first!" Mary offered, tossing Sam a meatball. She caught it swiftly and bounced it onto the mat at the front of the hole. Mary watched with awe as Sam smacked the meatball straight in for a hole-in-one, humming to herself. She noted how happy Sam looked, partaking in meat golf. Maybe it brought back some good memories. At least, Mary hoped it did.<p>

"Hope all that 'Sparkling' didn't make you rusty," Sam joked, stepping aside to let Mary take her turn. Mary plopped her own meatball down and positioned herself properly, glancing to the hole, then the club, then the hole again, moving the club to the perfect place. She whacked the meat and made a hole-in-one as well. "Atta girl! Still a natural!" Mary's heart swelled with pride from her mom's praise.

"Heck yeah!" Mary exclaimed. "I'll kick your butt!"

"Whoa, now _someone's_ getting cocky!" Sam shot back as they approached hole two. "Put your money where your meatballs are, kid!" Although both Mom and daughter were excellent putters of spherical meat, Sam had advantage through years of experience and pulled ahead tenfold.

"You're so good at this, Mom," Mary complimented, a mini-plan slowly unraveling. "You must have been playing mini-golf with meatballs your whole life or something!"

"Well, not my whole life," Sam shrugged, watching Mary's position. " – Move your club a little to the right, you're off a little – But definitely for at least half of it." Mary hit the meatball, and it landed a few inches before the hole. "More power next time."

"How did it even start?" Mary went on. "Meat golf, I mean."

"It's just something I came up with when I was about your age."

"All by yourself?" Mary pressed.

"Well… sort of," Sam was suddenly hesitant, which was strange, even to the daughter that had only really known her for twenty-four hours.

"Sort of?" Mary knew she had to keep going. She was getting somewhere.

"I had some nerd help," Sam eventually said, looking away so she could set up her putt. "You know, with the geometry. The size of the meatball. Stuff like that."

"Really?" Mary continued with interest. "Who?"

"It was, uh," Sam started her putt, as if to pretend the upcoming statement was no big deal. "It was your father, actually." According to Clara, Sam had only spoken with her about Freddie twice in their thirteen years of life. It took everything in Mary to stop herself from either grinning like an idiot or doing an epic happy dance, because wow, was this _huge_.

"You and my dad played meat golf together?" Mary furthered the conversation. "That's so awesome! Was he any good?" Sam was obviously distracted and disoriented by the conversation because she hit the meatball beyond the hole into the water.

Sam rolled her eyes as she pulled another meatball out of the cooler. "I kicked his geek butt every single time. C'mon, you know me."

Mary took a deep breath. _Here goes_. "I do. But I don't know my dad."

Sam scoffed, tossing the meatball up and down in her free hand. "So?"

"So don't you think I deserve to know stuff about him?" Mary watched her mother as she let out a noise of frustration that sounded like a cross between a lawnmower and a grizzly bear. Then she waited.

"What do you wanna know?" she eventually gave in through gritted teeth.

"When did you meet?"

"Junior high," Sam responded flatly.

"And what was he like?" Of course, Mary already knew the answer to that question, yet still wanted to hear Sam's more than anything.

"Clara," Sam began, shaking her head. "Your father was the biggest dork out there. We clashed. We never seemed to agree on anything. But…" she gazed at the beat-up meatball in her hand. "He also had the biggest heart. He was the voice of reason. He was always right. About _everything_. And he knew me _so_ well. We had a lot of good times. But then, we had some bad times. The end. Alright?" Mary stood in silence for a moment, soaking the information up like a sponge. It was vague, but it was something, and something was always better than nothing.

"Is he still alive?" Also a question Mary knew the answer to.

"Somewhere, yeah." _So she must have heard things about him to know that he's still alive. Which could only mean she must have, at some point, looked him up, or asked about him. And she still plays meat golf, a game they made up __**together**__. And she must have kept the yearbook for a reason, right? So maybe, just maybe…_

"Did you love him, Mom?" Mary inquired softly. And for a second, maybe only a fraction of a second, Mary saw a flash of Clara on her mom's face. Of pure, innocent, desperation. Of someone who was lost, waiting to be found.

"Of course I loved him, kid."

"Do you still?"

Sam didn't respond, only tossed Mary the meatball and returned to her tough disposition. "You're up. Let's see something good."

* * *

><p>Clara snuck up behind her father, who was half-asleep at his office's desk, his PearBook in front of him. "Morning, Dad!" Startled, Freddie bolted upright, banging his knee under his desk and scattering several random yet important-looking papers all around. He yelped in pain, his knee throbbing intensely. "Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" It was the morning following the Benson Family Rose bomb, and Clara was determined to convince her Dad, through thought-provoking questions, carefully drawn-out concerns, and easy logic, to send Rose on her way.<p>

"S'cool, Mary," Freddie said sincerely, his pain subsiding. "I appreciate the apology. Usually you laugh at any pain you've inflicted on others."

"Oh, yeah," _Darn. I need to remember to keep up the Mary act._ "So, what's this you're working on? Looks pretty lame!" _Much better_.

Freddie gave Clara a confused look. Half because Mary never took any sort of interest in anything he did at the computer, ever, _ever_. Half because he just realized how early it was and was wondering if the apocalypse was arising or something because Mary never got up before ten A.M. when she didn't have to, especially not on her own accord.

Regardless, he took the bait. "Just a couple of home movies I'm stringing together for Grandma Marissa. She's been nagging me to send some practically since you were born."

"Can I see?"

"Uh," Freddie was once again pleasantly surprised. "Yeah, 'course you can. Pull a chair over!" Clara tried not to show how excited she was as she dragged a chair from the corner to sit beside her dad. He shifted the view of the half-finished video to full screen. The song playing in the background of the movie was pretty but unrecognizable to Clara. The first clip displayed was of a high-on-life, bouncy young blonde wearing a birthday hat with frosting all over your face. "That's you during your 2nd birthday party…" Soon, the scene changed, and it was Christmastime. Little Mary was karate-chopping a tree, on a snowy tree farm, yelling "HI-_YA_!" over and over. "A couple days before your fourth Christmas…you did that for over a half hour non-stop." Freddie chuckled to himself. Clara smiled. Briefly, she noticed a blip in the video and before she could stop herself,

"You might need to recalibrate that section with the music," Clara slipped out. "5:08 and onwards is off."

Freddie paused the movie and rested his elbow on the desk, leaning toward his daughter. "When did you become such a techy?"

"We had a computer lab at camp," Clara quickly explained. Which was true. She just left out the whole 'not allowed to utilize it' part. "Dad, why does the video begin when I'm two and not before that?"

Freddie's eyes shifted nervously. "Um… well, see, the thing is…" he mumbled cleverly.

"Is it because of my mom?" Clara asked quietly.

"No!" Freddie lied. "Psh, that's not it at all! I just didn't start making home movies 'til around then. It was always so busy around here."

"Do you really think I don't wonder?" Clara went on with a sigh. "You know, what it's like to have a mother?"

"Well, hey," he turned towards Clara, grinning. "After September 1st, you won't have to wonder anymore!" Clara's mouth literally dropped.

"September 1st?" Clara cried out, standing up and pacing around the room franically. "Dad, that's barely a month away! Are you out of your mind? You've known this woman for, what, three weeks, four weeks tops, and now you're going to spend the rest of your life with her? That's crazy! That's not enough time! You really need to think about this, it's a much bigger decision than you think…!"

Freddie sat and listened as 'Mary' ranted on and on. He knew this was coming, though honestly he hadn't expected such a thorough argument, from the moment he saw the expression on her face the day before. But, and this he knew, she truly didn't understand.

Of course, his daughter was his world. But outside of his relationship with Mary was empty space. He had so much room to breathe yet practically nothing worth breathing for. He wanted more reason to get up in the morning, to make himself look nice, to prepare awesome Thanksgiving dinners or Christmas decorations.

Freddie wanted a family. A real, full family, for both him and his daughter. And since… well, since his first try didn't entirely work out, and since despite how attractive he had become he still always felt like the nerd he had always been, he was jumping on this second chance. No turning back. The end.

"I love her, Mary," Freddie hoped this explanation would be enough. "You could love her, too. You know, if you tried."

Clara rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what Mary would say to this and saying just that. "Yeah, no. Not gonna happen." But what she really wanted to say was that she would never love another mom she way she loved _her_ mom. No matter what, Clara would always love her more. And she hoped – oh, _chiz_, did she _hope_ – that her father felt the same way.

"Please, Mary?" Freddie almost begged. "Come on. Give her a chance." He smirked. "I'll bake you some pie…"

Maybe Clara was being selfish, trying to deprive her dad of whatever happiness he might have been searching for. But maybe she wasn't. Maybe he needed Sam as wholeheartedly as she did, and just needed that foot in the door. And for that same foot to kick 'wonderful' Rose to the curb.

"It better have whipped cream on it."

"You got it, kiddo." Freddie stood up, ruffled Clara's hair, and exited the room to go bake aforementioned pie.

Rose was an obstacle, Clara ultimately concluded, that could not be demolished by logic. Time for Plan B.

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. I started an internship recently and though I'm enjoying it, it's kind of sucking up all my free time. Ah, well, what can you do?**

**Out of sheer curiosity, which twin do you like better and why?**

**I hope you enjoyed Trapter 6. Thank you for all the reviews. You guys are, as Rose would say, wonderful (except **_**I**_** really mean it ) !**

**-Colors**


	7. Trapter 7

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Or Full House. Got it, dude? ;)**

iTrap

Trapter 7

_Sure, Sam had gotten into Harvard by accident. Yeah, yeah, it was true. However, the choice to actually go there had been entirely hers._

_ Her Boston University faculty advisor's beaming face and string of quick, excited words, the acceptance letter in her clenched fists, the obnoxious way the walls of the office seemed to be coming closer and closer… it all made Sam want to projectile vomit._

_**Seriously? Seriously, Universe?**__ Sam thought, exasperated, as she blocked out her advisor's jubilant words. __**You just **__had__** to bring him back into this?**__ Her heart was pounding, much like her brain. When was the last time she had seriously, seriously thought about Freddie Benson?_

_The answer came easily; when she saw him earlier that year. Not face-to-face, no. She wasn't up for that. But they happened to be in the same Applebee's on a chilly Wednesday night in January. He was taller, much to her dismay, but aside from that he didn't look all that different._

_ Not that she was staring or trying to figure that out, or anything. Because she wasn't._

_Regardless, Freddie, he was always going to be a geek. To her, at least. _

_ He was with a couple of friends that all sort of looked the same. They were splitting spinach and artichoke dip and some mozzarella sticks. She watched him as he took off his jacket. He shook the snow out of his hair and smiled at a girl sitting across from him. He seemed deep in thought. He said something to her. She laughed. He took some dip from the center of the table –_

_ "Sam?" Sam's roommate Jessica was waving a hand in front of her face. "Helloooo? Earth to Sam. Still with us?" Sam's vision snapped away from iCarly's ex-tech producer. "What's up, dude?"_

_ Sam shook her head, annoyed with herself for caring the slightest bit about what he was doing. It was none of her business. It stopped being her business a long chiz time ago. "Nothin'. I'm just really hungry."_

_ "You're always hungry!" Jessica had laughed. She pulled a menu up to her face. "So, I'm thinking we should get the boneless wings, but I'm not sure which sauce I want…"_

_ She looked over at his table again. Now he was laughing like an idiot at something one of the guys he was with had said. It looked like he couldn't even breathe. Watching him, she found that she herself couldn't breathe. Which was ridiculous, 'cause of course, she was over him. Obviously she was! I mean, how long had it been? Over half a year? And how many of his calls, emails, Splashface messages had she pointedly ignored? At least a hundred, she'd figured. And look, just look at her! She was still alive, walking, thinking, breathing, going out in public. Totally functioning. She didn't need him. Not in the least._

_ Apparently, the college application process thought otherwise. This irritated her to no end._

_ "…and this has just never happened before!" the advisor finished in awe and excitement. "Sam, honey, I know Harvard's not the school you wanted, but this is such an incredible opportunity! And you've worked so hard! I hope you'll at least consider going."_

_**Well, there you have it, Sam,**__ she thought grudgingly. __**Everything you do to remove Freddie Benson from your life backfires. Tenfold. Time to try something else.**_

_ Consider it? No. No, she was going. No more running. She was going to prove once and for all that she was completely and utterly over the dork, that she did not and would never, under any circumstances, need Freddie Benson._

_ (But, you know, if he just so happened to still be interested, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they tried._

_Hypothetically, of course.)_

_**Upgrade your locks, Harvard. Sam Puckett's comin' to town.**_

* * *

><p>"Sorry I'm late!" Rose rushed through the backyard gate, a stylish white summer hat shielding her eyes from the radiant August sun. "There was such an awful emergency down at work!" Clara wondered what had potential to be an 'emergency' when you worked as a yoga instructor, but despite her current state – Mary's blonde hair, Mary's bad-chick clothes, Mary's resentment – she was still Clara, thus did not find the guts to call her out on it in time.<p>

"S'cool," Freddie shrugged it off with a smile, as he sat opposite Clara at a table outside, eating some lunch. He'd invited Rose over in hopes that Mary would, for once, just once, follow through with his pie-negotiated agreement from yesterday morning. From all the years he'd raised her, watched her grow and change, of this he knew for sure; Mary was cold, but Mary was ice. And in the sun, ice always melted. "Mary, what do we say?"

Clara's eyes fell on Rose for a second before returning to the hot dog in front of her. "Yo." The word came out vulnerably and pathetically, but at least she had tried to have a backbone. Sort of.

"Good afternoon, Mary Sunshine," Rose said with the widest of smiles as she took a seat next to Freddie. Clara looked away awkwardly when the chipper woman stuck her tongue down his throat. _Yuck._ Finally, Rose noticed the food that was in front of them, and for some reason, looked entirely disgusted, despite having eaten a ham and cheese sandwich just two days ago. "Fredward, I've been thinking… isn't it just super cruel to eat animals? Quite frankly, they're living things! Well, they used to be, anyway," She laughed, though nothing funny had been said. Clara defiantly continued chomping on her hot dog while Freddie listened intently because that was how he did things. "We should become vegetarians." Clara almost choked on her hot dog, eyes wide. _Vegetarian? Seriously?_ She could just picture her mom's face. Sam probably would have already dumped something in Rose's lap or taken the hot dogs and run, as if to save them from an untimely disposal. Not to mention the way in which Rose had said _we_, like the deal was sealed and they were already a happy, little family.

Not if Clara had anything to say about it.

She noticed her dad was about to respond, possibly to calmly reason with his – _ew _– fiancé, but Clara was quick on the uptake, especially knowing she had missed all too many chances already.

"I bet my birth mother loved meat," Clara cut in cheekily. Rose's smiled faltered. Freddie shot a warning glare in her direction, which she pointedly ignored.

"Well, well, well, how do you figure that?" Rose asked, her voice clipped a bit.

"Because _I _totally love meat," Clara went on, avoiding her father's eyes. "And Dad says I'm just like her! Also, my dad still has a bunch of my mom's bacon-eating contest trophies from, like, forever ago." Now this had really gotten Rose's attention. "Obviously she was an avid fan. Huh, I wonder why he would keep them – "

"_Mary!_" Freddie snapped, bewildered.

Rose chuckled, though she was clearly uncomfortable and 'quite frankly', annoyed. "Oh, Mary, I'm sure your mother was wonderful," There was that stupid word again. "But I know I'll be much better!" _Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong._

"Did you know that most kids display intense resentment when step-parents try to fill their biological parent's shoes?" Clara commented, relentless. She knew Mary would be prouder than proud. She wished she could be here to witness this Rose wilt pathetically.

"Mary, enough!" Freddie scolded, disappointed in his daughter. He turned to Rose. "I'm sorry. She's not usually this… hateful." Fine, so it was a lie. But he _needed_ Rose to love Mary as much as he did. For her to give Mary a million second chances because that was how much he loved her. Somewhat like, though very different from, the way he loved –

Well, it didn't matter anymore, anyway, did it? Case and point, he needed Rose to love Mary, too.

"Oh, it's all fine," Rose said nonchalantly. "Fredward, would you mind getting us some fruit? Let's remind ourselves that other things are yummy, too. Not just meat!"

"Yeah, sure," he got up and pushed in his chair. "I'll be right back. Mary…" He gazed at his daughter warningly. "_Behave_."

"You got it, dude!" Clara gave him a thumbs-up, quoting an old show she and her mom still watched together.

"A _Full House_ reference, huh?" Rose noticed, casually folding one long leg over the other. Her dress was so tight Clara wondered how she could even breathe without tearing it. "Someone's mature for their age!"

"I guess that makes two of us," Clara retorted without fail. "How much younger are you than my dad? Ten years? Twelve?"

"Your father has very many _wonderful_ qualities, FYI," Rose responded through clenched teeth. "You're very lucky to have him in your life, and soon I will be, too. Has he mentioned anything about the lottery to you yet, by the way?"

Okay, now she was confused. "What about the lottery?"

"I'll take that as a no," Rose sighed, and leaned in real close. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Mary Sunshine. Your father won the lottery a few weeks ago. A _million_ dollars. He hasn't figured out what he wants to do with it yet, but rest assured, darling, we will be living the high life." She winked and pulled away.

Of course, Rose was telling her this to try to get on her good side, to win her trust, but in reality, it only confirmed what Clara had suspected in a rush of panic. Rose was most definitely using her father. For his money, of all things. Her stomach turned to knots. Hatred filled her kind, innocent bones. _What a skunkbag._

Her dad was making the biggest mistake of his life, and he couldn't even see it. She had to expose her for what she truly was, but how?

_So she clearly wants to marry into money,_ Clara pondered, as Rose pulled out an ugly nail-filer. _What if said money was going somewhere other than her fat purse?_

Her wheels began turning.

"Hola," Freddie returned, way too enthusiastic to be carrying fruit. He set the plate down. "How are my two favorite ladies doing? Bonding, I hope?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Rose said melodiously.

"Wonderfully," Clara added, mocking Rose.

"Really?" Freddie asked, astounded, obviously not catching on. "That's… great! Awesome!" He sat down, smiling excitedly. "Fruit, anyone?" This soon-to-be family was going to _work_. Even if it killed him.

"I'd love some!" Rose chimed, daintily snatching a single grape from the plate.

Clara sent her a look across the table, as if to say, I_ am so not letting you become my mom._

Rose sent a look right back, as if to say, _Bring it on._

* * *

><p>"<em>She's not your girlfriend," Carly informed Freddie frantically. He was quitting iCarly to join his witchy girlfriend's web show. "She's just using you!" Sam stood by Carly's side, hoping Freddie would finally use his big brain and see the light.<em>

_But, Freddie reasoned, at least something that was used had a purpose._

"_Then I enjoy being used!"_

* * *

><p>"Are my eyes deceiving me?" Gretchen gasped when Sam and a faux-brunette everyone believed to be Clara entered Mama's Bakery of Awesome, a tiny bell sounding as the door opened. "No way is this grown-up girl the same Clara who came in here the day before she left for camp! My, my, my!"<p>

Mary held back a laugh. "You better believe it!"

Gretchen came around from behind the counter and kneeled down. "I'm waiting for my hug!" Mary obliged. The hug was bone-crushing. "Oh, Clara, your mom and I missed you so much!" She pulled away. "Let me tell you, hon, we got no business without your pretty little face drawing 'em in. I swear!"

"That's totally not true," Mary laughed, scanning the homey shop in awe. "Everything is here looks ridiculously awesome!"

"Hence the name of the shop!" Sam chimed in, content at how much her daughter loved her cakes. She'd worked day and night – literally – on them. They'd kept her sane. Well, as sane as Sam Puckett could ever be.

Opening a cake shop had always been a little dream of hers, tucked away in the childish corners of her mind. And after, well, after she and Clara left, with all the new, overwhelming open space, she kind of just… did it. At Harvard she actually majored in psychology, so pretty much her entire education had absolutely _nada_ to do with what she ended up doing so passionately with her life. Although, she guessed, the couple of math classes helped with all the finances. And being around so many different people her whole life, most involuntarily, taught her important things about customer service and being personable (at least, to their face).

When it came down to it, she was where she should be. Of course she was. She had a beyond belief bright daughter, supportive friends, and got to be around food all day. What else could she possibly need?

Gretchen, pushy as ever, had the answer. As soon as Mary wandered off to "examine" (taste-test) some cakes in storage, the two women took their place behind the counter and Gretchen got down to business. "Carly called me yesterday. She wants you and Clara to fly to Seattle tomorrow for a visit." Sam knew this already from the countless voicemails and text messages she'd received. She'd yet to respond to any of them. Of course Carly would be devious enough to relay the message through her most trusted staff member.

"Oh, really?" Sam played dumb.

"Mhmm," Gretchen gave her a knowing look. "I think she'd really like to see you guys. If you had the chance." In Gretchen language, that more or less translated to '_go see your friend, or I'll kick you_.'

The thing was, if she went to visit Carly, she knew exactly what was going to happen. They would eat watermelon with a spoon, watch old iCarly clips and _Girly Cow _reruns, make fun of people they hated, do each other's nails, and somehow, somewhere in their whole pow-wow of awesome friendship reinforcement, Carly would sneakily convince her to go to their high school reunion. She knew all her kryptonites – bacon, video games, feelings. It wasn't a fear of the possibility, but of the inevitability, that had Sam so set against taking that flight.

"Nah, it's going to get pretty busy around here," Sam spat out a lame excuse, not meeting Gretchen's eyes and rearranging a tray of cupcakes. "Summer is jam-packed with weddings – "

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" Gretchen cried out. "Yes, Freddie might be there." Gretchen rarely ever used _his_ name during her motivational lectures. Instinctively, a sharp but fleeting pain shot through her heart. "So what? Say hi and move on! Avoid him if you have to! If you really want the guy out of your life for good, then you need some sort of closure. This reunion might be your only chance to have it."

But maybe that was it. Maybe she didn't want closure. Maybe she _hated_ the idea of closure.

And, of course, what if he brought Mary? Too much complication. It made her brain hurt just thinking about coming face-to-face with the daughter she never got to watch grow up.

"I'm not," Sam spoke loudly. "Visiting Carly tomorrow. Not until after the fifteenth. Got it?"

"We're visiting Aunt Carly tomorrow?" Mary asked excitedly, just now tuning in to the conversation. "That's awesome!"

"Yes, you are, indeed!" Gretchen smiled at Mary, then whispered to Sam. "Don't want to disappoint your own child, now, do you?"

"No, Clara, not tomorrow," Sam clarified, shooting Gretchen a glare. "Soon though. Promise."

"Why not tomorrow?" Mary pressed.

"Yeah, Sam, why not tomorrow?" Gretchen repeated with a smirk. "She did invite you!"

"She did?" Mary asked. "Then what's the problem? Let's go!"

"But…" Sam started to panic, unable to find a rational excuse to give her daughter. "_Sorry, we can't go, 'cause your Aunt Carly might convince me to go to my high school reunion, and your dad and long-lost twin sister might be there!" _Yeah, no, that wasn't going to happen. "Ugh. Fine!" Mary did a happy dance, which was, Sam briefly noticed, very uncharacteristic of Clara. After all, she saw Carly at least twice a month. Then again, Carly was pretty great with her. "Is that frosting on your chin?" Mary stopped dancing and wiped her face with her fingers. Sure enough, white frosting appeared in her hand. She licked it off.

"I believe so," was her response.

Sam shook her head. "I don't even want to know which extremely detailed cake you yanked a piece off from. Go remove it from sight, thanks." With a shrug, Mary exited the front room and ran back to storage.

"She's gotten a bit defiant," Gretchen observed as she watched Mary leave. "You must be rubbing off on her."

Sam crossed her arms, displeased. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Gretchen put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm proud of you," she told Sam. "You're really doing the mature thing. Finally becoming an adult."

So, fine. If Carly decided to persuade Sam to go to this stupid reunion, she would consider going. But under no circumstances was she required to look at, talk about, or speak to her dork of an ex-husband.

For one desperate moment, she remembered slamming the door closed in his face, only one of the two most beautiful babies in the world tucked under her arm. She remembered how hard it was not to turn back. She might've, maybe, hoped for stupid things as she walked away. Movie-like things. Fairytale-like things. But she was done with that now. Everybody had to grow up and face reality sometime.

"Being an adult sucks."

"Amen to that, hon."

**A/N: I love how Gretchen is more stubborn than Sam. It makes for some good pushing and shoving, which is exactly what Sam needs right now.**

**I decided to write a lot from Sam's POV this chapter, and I hope you guys liked it. For some reason, the review response option is not working for me, which really sucks, but THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS, YOU GUYS! You're seriously the best.**

**Later!**

**-Colors**


	8. Trapter 8

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wished I owned Nathan Kress.**

iTrap

Trapter 8

_ Sam and Freddie were swept inside apartment 8C by excited, dainty arms and an ecstatic scream before either of them could even get a word in. Sam was tackled first._

_"Sam!" Carly squealed. _

_ "I'm guessing you didn't miss me?" Sam commented jokingly, patting Carly's back and beaming._

_ "Oh my God, Sam, I can't believe you're here!" Carly cried, hugging her best friend tightly. "You look so great! This is so great!" She pulled apart from Sam and proceeded in attacking Freddie with her embrace. "C'mere, techy!" Freddie laughed and gladly welcomed the hug. Carly shut the door and took both of them by the hand, dragging them to the couch where the three of them plopped down._

_ Everybody talked at once, a complicated but somehow, perfectly simple whirlwind of chatter, reactions, and hysterical laughter._

_ "Dude, how was Italy?"_

_ "You transferred to Harvard?"_

_ "Is it humanly possible to take that many classes?"_

_ "I can't believe you tried to eat that!"_

_ "Whoa, does your Mom know?"_

_ "You found what in your dorm room?"_

_ "…But why would you use toothpaste for that?"_

_ "He couldn't take a hint?"_

_ "…I mean, whatever, it's just stairs, what's the big deal?_

_ Hard-boiled eggs and bacon were consumed to celebrate the beginnings of the trio's Spring Break home, together. It had been so long, with Carly out in Italy for the past year. Yet, despite the length of time they had been separated, it appeared as if nothing had changed._

_ Except it had. And all the while during Carly's crazy Italy stories, Freddie and Sam exchanged glances, wondering when it was they were supposed to bring __**It**__ up. And most of all, how she would take said __**It**__._

_ "…Wow, I've been talking a lot," Carly breathed with a laugh. She looked left and right at her friends. "So what else is new with you guys? Anything interesting?" Sam and Freddie took this moment to look at each other at the exact same time. Freddie's eyes urged Sam to speak first, so, __grudgingly, __she did._

_ "Now that ya mention it," Sam began, wringing her hands and glancing down, trying to sound as casual as possible. Which was impossible, really. This news was far from casual. It was colossal. And Carly could immediately tell. "Yeah. There is."_

_ "Yeah," Freddie added for no apparent reason._

_ Carly looked interested. Worried, almost. "Okay, what is it?" She glanced back and forth between the two nervously. "Guys?"_

_ "We're dating!" They blurted out at the exact same time, and then they both took a deep sigh of relief._

_ "That's it?" Carly looked relieved as well, breathing out slowly. "God! You guys really scared me!"_

_ "You knew?" Freddie asked, bewildered._

_ "How?" Sam demanded._

_ "Well," Carly jumped into her logical, Carly-like deciphering. "Let's start with the fact that it's been an hour and neither of you have hurled any cruel words or sharp objects at each other. Which means you guys are either dead or in love. And since you're both clearly happily breathing and devouring my food, the deductive reasoning was rather easy from there." For a couple of moments, Sam and Freddie just sat there as Carly took some more eggs, politely chewing as they gaped. "So, anything else that I don't already know?"_

_ "So…" Sam said slowly. "You're cool with this then. With, like," she waved her hand back and forth between the dork on the opposite end and herself. "Us?"_

_ Carly put her arms around her best friends and squeezed, extremely happy for them. "As long as I get to be maid of honor, I'm sold." _

_ "Deal," Freddie agreed with a laugh, though he wondered – but certainly didn't hope that – if Carly was taking it a bit far. From across Carly's embrace, Freddie caught Sam smiling and whispering, 'Thanks, kid.'_

_ "Just know this," Carly continued, removing her arms and reaching for some more food, which was almost entirely gone thanks to a no-longer anxious Sam. "Keeping stuff from me? Not possible. I always have my ways."_

* * *

><p>"Pew, pew!" ten year-old Stephen Shay-Brown leapt from behind the blue couch in his family's large apartment, sending two Nerf gun bullets in the general direction of his twin brother, Michael. Luckily, Michael had wicked fast reflexes and dodged them with a pillow, just in the nick of time.<p>

"Ha-ha!" he mocked his brother. "You missed me!"

"You're going down, Loser!" Stephen tossed his Nerf gun to the side and ran towards Michael, who ran away and around them room screaming "Mom!" over and over as Stephen chased after him.

"Hey, hey!" Carly bolted from the kitchen, her hair in a messy bun and a large, wooden spoon in her hand. "Enough!" She grabbed both boys by the arm and waited until they stopped struggling to escape and kill each other. "Please, guys, just put the guns away and go clean your room. Aunt Sam and Clara will be here any minute."

"I hate cleaning," Stephen mumbled.

"Well, I'm not doing it alone!" Michael protested.

"Oh, well, alright…" Carly said with a fake sigh, letting go of her boys' wrists and wandering away slowly. "I guess I'll have to go clean. And I won't have enough time to finish that apple pie…"

"Race you there!" Stephen shouted, shoving his brother even though tagging had nothing to do with racing.

"Hey, no fair, you got a head start!" Michael whined, running after Stephen just as quickly.

"The pie, bro, do it for the pie!" Carly couldn't help but laugh. Stephen sounded so much like Ben just then, her lovable but overworked doctor of a husband, who was currently on call until the morning. Oh, it was so far away…

Carly and Ben had met in the most random way possible. Senior year of college Carly had tripped over a stray bottle of Peppy Cola and landed herself in the hospital with a broken ankle. The same hospital where Ben just so happened to be interning. Fate was a clever little demon. Carly's second favorite clever little demon, in fact – the first being Sam.

Ben had done a pretty god job helping her clean up around the apartment before he had left, but still Carly found herself slightly aggravated by the mess that still existed. Clean and twin sons just never seemed to spin together in harmony. Ever.

Still, despite the minor frustrations, she was practically dancing with excitement that the Puckett's were making an appearance. She hadn't seen Sam or Clara since… hmm, probably the end of June? They were like family to her.

Speaking of family… Carly reached for the phone on the kitchen counter and dialed the number for the apartment exactly two floors above hers. "Yellow?"

"Spencer, get up here!" Carly commanded her forgetful older brother. "Sam and Clara will be here literally any second!"

A few crashes, followed by a random yelp. "Oh man, that's today?"

"Yes, it's today! C'mon!"

"Can I bring mini-female Spencer?" He was referring to Emily, his seventeen year-old daughter. "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named dropped her off yesterday." It was his turn to see her that week, much to his excitement.

"Now, now," Carly said jokingly. "Let's not compare your ex-wife to a fictional murderous wizard."

"She's not _that _bad," Carly heard Emily say, trying hard to mean it.

"Oh, yes, she is, silly you," Spencer responded, waving Emily's comment away. "We'll be up in just a sec, Carly." The other end of the phone call went dead, and Carly hung up with a shrug.

Then came a loud knock on her door. Carly excitedly rushed to answer it.

"Yay, my favorite family!" she cheered, wrapping her arms around the Puckett necks as the usual group hug ensued. Sam and Mary said their hellos. Carly pulled away and leaned her head back. "Mike! Stephen! Our guests are here!"

"But we're not done cleaning!" Stephen shouted back. "And we want pie!"

"Just hide the mess!" Sam called out to them. "That's what I did when I was a kid."

"Yeah, and now you don't even bother with that," Carly joked. Mary recalled Sam's charmingly disastrous apartment. "So, Clara!" Stephen and Michael walked back into the main room of the apartment and stood a safe but awkward distance from the greeting at the door. Mary noted with a little dread that they were practically identical. "Um, Clara?" Sure, Clara had mentioned this and probably ways to tell them apart, but of course, she was drawing a blank. It was like in school, taking tests, except way more important. "Clara!" With a jolt, Mary realized Carly was taking to her.

"Sorry!" she said, for once succeeding in sounding a lot like Clara. "I… kinda spaced out there for a second."

"No worries!" Carly said brightly, as she led Sam and Clara to the kitchen table, Stephen and Michael trailing close behind. An array of cheese and crackers on a plate waited patiently at the center of the table. "I was just going to ask how camp was!"

"So much fun," Mary gushed, giving no second thought to grabbing a handful of cheese, completely ignoring the decorative little fork that was supposed to be used to pick the cheese up. "Totally miss it." She said this with her mouth full.

"We go to camp, too!" Michael remarked, referring to himself and his brother.

"A sports one!" Stephen announced proudly. "Like soccer, and basketball, and other ones!"

"Really? That's awesome!" Mary commented brightly, giving both the boys high fives. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her favorite game system. "Dude, is that a Nintendo Wii Supreme?"

"Did she just say 'dude'?" Carly asked to no one in particular.

"Uh…yeah," Stephen confirmed, confused. "Do you… do you wanna play with us?"

"Abso-bac – " Mary halted the sentence. "Uh, yes. Yes, I do. What games you got?"

"We'll show you!" Michael exclaimed, grabbing Mary's wrist and pulling her to the TV, Stephen right behind them.

"Shotty the blue controller!" he cried. Just then, Spencer entered the apartment, without bothering to knock. Immediately after him came a tall, bubbly red-headed teenager humming and texting.

"Em, drop the cellular device and say hola to your Aunt," Spencer said good-naturedly.

Emily's green eyes met Carly's for a second. "_Hola_, Aunt Carly."

"Hey, Em!" Carly waved. "Want some cheese? Or crackers? Or an amalgam of both?"

"Yeah, hang on a minute," she said distractedly, plopping down on the couch next to Stephen, her thumbs moving rapidly. "There's some prom drama going down."

Spencer's head cocked to the side. "Wasn't your prom in _June_?"

"Yep."

"Alright then," Spencer said, and then made a lovely 'pfft' sound. "Teenagers." He took a seat at the table and spotted Sam. "Sam! You're here! Fantastic! Did you bring pie?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Nah, not this time."

"Aw." Spencer slumped his shoulders.

"You're good at this game!" Stephen shouted out to Mary over the rock music. "For a girl, I mean."

"It's all in the wrist," Mary beamed, really loving this whole cousin thing, though technically the Shay-Brown's weren't really her relatives. All she had back in Boston was her dad and her crazy, paranoid Grandma Marissa, who lived, now that she thought about it, just upstairs. They never visited her – more often than not, her grandmother flew in to see them. Mary wondered if her grandmother knew anything about Freddie's engagement. Somehow she doubted it. The less Grandma Marissa knew, the less she could decimate with her psychotic nature.

Really though, it was nice to be around people who played sometimes. Let go a little.

"So Miss Clara, did you like Camp Sparkle Lake?" Emily asked, her head still bowed. "I totally loved it when I was a camper there."

"It was great," Mary nodded, trying to stay focused on the game at hand. However, she did happen to notice quite the spectacle on half of Emily's bare legs. "Cool socks, by the way."

Emily proudly stuck her legs in the air, displaying her long red and purple light-up socks. "Thanks! They were a birthday gift from my dad. You know how he is." Mary was certainly beginning to.

Michael paused the game. "Let's take a Cheese Break!"

"Yeah, Cheese Break!" Stephen chimed, and the two of them zipped off the couch simultaneously, almost knocking over a lamp in the process.

"Guys, careful!" Carly called out.

"It must be amazing," Emily said randomly.

Mary turned the wireless controller over and over in her lap. "What must be amazing?"

"You know," Emily stated, finally looking up from her phone and smiling crookedly, a mirror image of her father. "Having a twin."

Mary smiled back. "Definitely."

"Hey, Sam," she heard Carly tell her mom from the table. "Mind if I take Clara to get a Smoothie? You know, catch up and all?"

"Go for it," Sam agreed. "Here, lemme just get some money – "

"No, no, it's on me," Mary heard Carly get up and walk over. "Hey, Clara, smoothie run! You comin'?"

"Sure!" Mary responded, hopping off the couch and slipping on her flip-flops. Carly and Mary shouted a collective goodbye to everybody and exited the apartment.

Mary walked down the hallway beside her "Aunt," recalling all the zany iCarly videos she'd seen her in just a few weeks ago. She was so much older now, yet somehow still sort of looked the same. Just taller. And maybe more serious.

As soon as the elevator door closed, Carly grabbed Mary by the shoulders and shook her slightly. "Mary! _What_ are you _doing _here?"

Shocked would not begin to describe it. Mary's insides exploded, warning signals going off in her head. She tried her best to play it cool. "What're you talking – "?

"Don't you play games with me!" Carly snapped, letting her go. "Maybe your mom hasn't caught on because she hasn't seen the both of you all grown up, separately, but come on! I wasn't born yesterday!"

Mary almost protested, but something in her ultimately decided it was best to lose this one. She sighed. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Clara would never take food without being granted permission," Carly informed Mary matter-of-factly. "Also, she's terrible at video games. And really doesn't say 'dude' all too much."

"Cut me some slack here," Mary argued, as the elevator opened and the two stepped out. A slightly gray Lewbert began shouting, which they both pointedly ignored. "I've only known my own sister for, like, a month!" Carly shook her head, over and over, clearly trying to smooth out her thoughts. Mary felt a little guilty, putting all of this on her.

"This is a little bit my fault," Carly admitted, surprising the teen at her side. They stepped outside, the sun warming their faces. "I did strongly recommend Camp Sparkle Lake to _both_ of your parents. I was kind of hoping you two would meet… but… but _this_?" She glared at Mary, disappointed. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in when I call your dad? Not to mention what sort of mental breakdown it's going to cause your mom – "

"No!" Mary stopped her in a panic. "No, you can't tell them! You can't!"

Carly halted and crossed her arms. "Give me one reason why not."

"Because," Mary pressed on, frustrated. "It's too early! We need – I need more time with my mom, before- before we get switched back and I have to live with some preppy, rude woman who says 'wonderful' all the time and is, as we speak, probably trying to get my dad and Clara to go vegetarian! I mean, really? How am I supposed to go back and live my life when it's like that?"

Carly frowned. "Mary – "

"Especially when you and I both know my dad belongs with my mom – it just has to be that way! It's not going to be right, any other way, no matter how much any of us pretend! I – I want my whole stupid, stubborn family to be _together_, so we have to wait until it's close enough to that reunion my mom was complaining about so that they can finally meet and – and!"

"Mary!" Carly said again. "I'm in."

"But you can't just – wait, really?" Mary's heart pounded with excitement. She was so used to adults claiming superiority. They never took her side, bent down to her level, like Carly was about to.

"As long as you promise to tell your mom before the reunion," Carly warned, but there was no denying it; she was smiling.

"Abso-_bacon_-lutely," Mary grinned. Carly threw an arm around the young girl's shoulders and they marched into Groovy Smoothie.

"Is Rose really that bad?" Carly said, wincing. Mary simply nodded. "Darn. She seemed nice enough at the national firm meeting a few months back."

"According to Clara, she's just using my dad," Mary elaborated as they got in line. "And Clara's a sharp crayon. Carly, we've _got_ to do something about it."

"Well, lucky for you," Carly exclaimed. "I am the _Queen_ of Doing Something About It."

* * *

><p>Bang, bang! "Fredward, open this door this instant!"<p>

From inside the Benson household, Freddie groaned in mental pain. Of course his mom never used the doorbell; she was more than loud enough on her own.

"Who's at the door?" Clara asked, knowing full well who was at the door. She'd indirectly invited her, after all.

If Clara were to write a detailed instruction book called 'How To Get Marissa Benson On a Plane to Boston in Less Than Twenty-Four Hours," the first chapter would be about telling her that her son had won the lottery.

The second would be about telling her that aforementioned son was getting married in a month.

She would feel like the biggest genius on Earth if she hadn't already felt extremely guilty.

"I don't care who you are in there canoodling with!" she continued to shout furiously. "_Open. This. Door_!" From outside, a few dogs in the neighborhood started barking. "Be quiet, dogs!"

But Freddie was prepared. "Mary, could you answer the door for your Grandma? Tell her I'm in the shower!"

Clara frowned. "But you're not – "

"Yes, I am!" Quickly, Freddie bolted upstairs to the bathroom and slammed the door. Soon afterwards, the shower turned down. With a sigh, Clara headed for the brutally beaten door and tried to summon any evil she had inside.

"Hi, Grandma!" she said cheerfully when Marissa Benson burst inside like a buzzing bee. "My dad's, um, in the bathroom pretending to take a shower."

"Is it true?" she asked hopefully. "Is my baby boy finally getting remarried?"

"It's true," Clara said encouragingly. "So go on up there and fuss, fuss, fuss!"

As Grandma Marissa pounded up the stairs, Clara couldn't help but feel the slightest bit – okay, the largest bit – awful, sicking her father's own mother on her.

But here was her thinking.

According to Mary's description of their Grandma Marissa, the woman was so empathetic towards those she loved that it was suffocating, at times petrifying. Well, really her sister had said "The crazy woman cares too much," but that was what Clara had interpreted that to be.

So logically, Marissa Benson would _never_ allow her son to use his newly won expenses on petty things such as swimming pools or fancy fountains or anything else ridiculous Rose would likely dream up for her new 'wonderful,' rich life with Freddie. Grandma Marissa would obviously persuade Freddie – to an aggravating and forceful degree – to spend the money on _practical_ things – socks, ointment, security systems, bubble wrap. Or maybe even convince her dad to give it all or most of it to charity – something Clara would definitely approve of, as she was never the type who liked to be spoiled. Though she suspected Mary would feel rather differently about the idea, at least at first.

As Clara listened to the muffled screams from the bathroom upstairs, her – well, Mary's – cell phone buzzed from the kitchen counter.

"Dude, we got busted," was the first thing Mary said when Clara hurriedly picked up.

Clara's eyes widened. "Oh _no_, Mom figured it out?"

"Nah, Carly did. I suck at being you," Mary corrected her. "But get this; she wants to help us!"

"Are you serious?"

"'Course I am!" her sister said proudly. "Right now the game plan is for Carly to convince Mom to go to the reunion. So how's everything down in CruellaVille?"

"Well, I managed to figure out why Rose is so interested in Dad," Clara answered, glancing cautiously at the closed kitchen door, listening for footsteps. "He won the lottery!"

The flinch-worthy sound of Mary choking on the other end filled Clara's ears. "_DUDE!_"

"I _know_!" Clara began pacing, something she always did when her mind raced with plans. "But I think I know how to shoo her off. I'll keep you posted. I think I hear them coming. Love you!"

"Wait, them? Who else is - ?" _Click_.

"… Oh, I am just over the moon excited!" Grandma Marissa crooned as she and her son entered the Benson kitchen, Freddie looking beyond bothered and Marissa quite the opposite. "And so glad I hopped on that plane, or I would've missed this exciting opportunity!"

Clara was in disbelief. Her grandma seemed, at the moment, completely unfazed about the whole lottery thing and was simply focusing on the fact that Freddie was getting married again! _Where's the disapproval? Where's the scolding, the forbidding? Oh no, this is so not the plan…_

"What exciting opportunity?" Clara chirped in, hoping that maybe they were talking about something else.

"Tomorrow night the three of us will be having dinner with Tulip!" Grandma Marissa said, beaming.

"It's Rose, Mom," Freddie reminded her with a sigh.

"Whoops, excuse me," she laughed. "I must be getting old!"

Clara tried to hold in your groan, but to no avail. In all honesty, she sort of liked being Mary – it allowed her an outlet to speak her mind, stand up for herself, at least a little bit.

She blamed Mary – after all, she knew next to nothing about Grandma Marissa and she was honestly starting to think she knew nothing about her Dad, either. And she wanted to know everything. Absolutely everything. Terribly so.

Which was why the moment her grandmother left the premises for the time being (after some passive-aggressive hints from Freddie), Clara offered up an idea she had sort of, kind of a little bit been dreaming of ever since she found out she had a dad. And a tech-savvy dad, of all kinds.

"So, Dad," she said, trying to sound cheerful, as he closed the door and smiled, relieved for that to be over with. He had dreaded telling his mom about the engagment for days and days. Luckily she hadn't gotten into too much detail about the whole lottery thing. "I was thinking… we should make a movie. You know, together."

"I-I love that idea, Mary!" Freddie responded, excited that she wanted to spend time with him. He had been anticipating a months worth of volcanic eruptions from his daughter, and would take this anyday. She was his world. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and nudged the kitchen door open. They stepped inside. "What did you have in mind?"

Clara was way ahead of him. "You know, just… about us! We could go to cool places and film what goes on." She glanced over at Freddie's super fancy video camera, currently charging at the table. "Could we use your super amazing camera? Please? Please, please, please?" She gave a small grin and raised her eyebrow, an expression that reminded Freddie so much of himself that he almost forgot what they were talking about.

"What's gotten into you, kiddo?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining… but a few weeks ago you tried to smash my camera with a baseball bat at any of my attempts to make some more home movies." He ruffled her hair jokingly, removed the camera from its charger, and handed it carefully to Clara.

Clara turned the sleek, silver video camera around and around in her hands, making circle on the cool exterior with her thumbs. It was so _gorgeous_. Cameras always captivated Clara because pictures and videos were the closest things science had to time travel. She loved the idea of reliving precious moments. Especially those that breezed by so quickly she barely had time to remember to hold on to them.

She hit the 'on' button and then hit 'record,' opening the camera so she could see Freddie's amused face on the screen.

"I just…" she trailed off, noticing the intent way Freddie stared and for one brief moment, wondered, _What if Dad had taken me, and Mom had taken Mary? Would they be different? Would __**I **__be different? _"I want to remember you, Dad." One of the biggest grey areas in life was just how much those around us shaped our personalities, our lives. But in Clara's opinion, she would be close to nothing without the bits and pieces from her loved ones. Freddie had always been missing, and now that he was here, now that they were finally together, she wanted to cling to these pieces he had already tossed to her, tightly. She never wanted to let go. "I never, ever want to forget my Dad."

As if she ever could.

Freddie smiled, shooting the camera two awkward, nerdy thumbs up. "Okay, where to first?"

Clara contemplated his question, before answering with Mary-like confidence, "How 'bout Harvard?"

**A/N: I think it's the most adorable thing ever that Clara wants to be all techy with her Dad. :)**

**I know you didn't hear much from our favorite psycho mother this chapter, but fear not, she'll be back soon.**

**And now Carly knows! What do you guys think, can she keep a secret? Is she devious enough? Did Emily get the bestest present ever? Should Lewbert just freaking retire already?**

**The review option is still obnoxiously not working, which really bothers me, so once again, I LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVELY REVIEWS! They make me happy, and I'm so glad y'all enjoy my words.**

**Have a nice rest of the week. 'Til we virtually meet again,**

**-Colors**


	9. Trapter 9

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 9

Clara's hand shook with so much excitement that she nearly dropped her dad's evidently expensive video camera.

"Harvard Yard," she whispered, captivated, "is _phenomenal_." Maybe she was a bit biased, considering Harvard had been her dream college practically since birth, but nonetheless she was stunned by it's beauty and air of intelligence. Her mom never took her here, for her own reasons, but now finally Harvard stood before her, with her Dad by her side, and _gosh_, if she were a rocket she'd be blasting towards the late afternoon sky.

"Yeah?" Freddie smiled, confused but flattered. Before now, Mary never showed much interest in his college. Or college, in general. Actually, pretty much school, in general, though push he did.

Father and daughter walked for a bit, taking in the scenery. Freddie was able to point the direction of his Freshman dorm – every other year he'd lived off-campus.

"So, tell us, Mr. Benson," Clara spoke, trying to sound like a hard-hitting newswoman, "What is it like to be back here? Spark any memories, inklings… regrets, perhaps?" Clara swerved the camera so Freddie was in view just in time to shoot his contemplative, amused smirk.

"Maybe," he responded, wiggling his eyebrows and purposely being vague, "A little."

"Oh, come on, Dad!" Clara protested, pushing the camera even closer. "The people want more! Don't disappoint them!"

"Mary, don't shove that in my face," he laughed, stepping back a bit. Freddie was more than used to holding a camera; having someone film him was definitely a little out of his comfort zone, as it hadn't happened too much since his iCarly days. Thinking about that old web show tugged at his heartstrings. Everything was so simple then.

Although maybe it was the location, not the camera, that was making him feel as if he were floating aimlessly in outer space. Things were never really in his control, especially here at this very school.

It was so painfully familiar that he almost expected a ham-loving, blonde-headed demon to strut around the corner, flinging spitballs or forcing him into a surprise headlock. Out of habit, he glanced all around him expectantly, only to feel extremely stupid just moments later. _What am I doing?_

"…Did you, I don't know, fall in love here?" Clara pressed on. "Hm? Did you? Did you?"

"Did I _fall_?" Freddie asked incredulously, more to himself and the world than his daughter. "Uh-uh. I was one hundred percent _tripped_." With that, Freddie walked forward, taking in the familiar scene, smell, and remembering, trying not to remember, and then remembering yet again. Clara quickly followed behind him, filming the back of his head.

Clara knew she had to choose her words carefully. "Was… she your first love?"

Carly's face surfaced briefly in his mind. "Nope." He kept walking, picking up a stray Frisbee and examining it for no real reason. He tossed it up over his head and then caught it again.

"Well, was she your favorite love?"

Freddie turned back, the eyebrow raised once again. "My _favorite_ love?"

"Correct!" Clara waited, deciding to throw in a Mary phrase. "Spit it out!"

"Some questions," Freddie said, ruffling Clara's dyed blonde hair, "Are better left unanswered."

"Not this one!"

"_Especially_ that one."

"Why?" Clara wanted to know. "What are you so worried about?"

"I'm clumsy," Freddie mumbled, frowning. _As in, I could trip again._

"So?"

"_So_," Freddie dragged the curt word out, "Go long!" Without all too much warning, Freddie tossed the Frisbee down Harvard Yard. Two beats later Clara was charging for it. She tried to catch the Frisbee, but it fell through her open arms.

Clara spent the rest of the afternoon playing Frisbee with her Dad, purposely sending the disk off in random directions just so she could hear him ramble on about trajectory and angles. It made her feel at home, at peace. But at the same time, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that maybe this wouldn't be forever. With less than two weeks until his high school reunion, and less than four 'til his _wedding_ – to someone who wasn't her Mom, not even close – things felt pretty bleak.

The consistent worry bubbled inside her, though never surfaced to her face because Clara knew that Mary wasn't afraid of much of anything (aside from maybe the occasional burglar zombie). But even so, being Sam Puckett's daughter required bucket loads of worry because in every family someone had to worry, and it most certainly wasn't going to be her Mom. She watched as her Dad fell back into the grass to catch her off-kilter throw and smiled sadly, wishing he could be the one to worry for her from now 'til forever.

The continuous tangle of thoughts mentally exhausted the young girl in such a way that eventually she collapsed onto the grass to watch the clouds. By the time Freddie had raced over to join her, Clara had drifted to sleep, clutching his camera to her chest like a stuffed animal.

Smiling, Freddie scooped her up into his arms and carried his 13 year-old baby to the car. He feared the day he wouldn't be able to carry her like this anymore. Sure, Mary was a tough cookie, but when it came down to it she needed a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, a Freddie to carry her.

Like mother, like daughter.

After he got to the car and buckled 'Mary' in, he sat behind the wheel, whipping his phone out and scrolling to the S section. _'Sam Puckett, your favorite bully_!' the second S read. The words on the little screen brought him back to sixth grade when she'd given him her number.

Actually, it was more along the lines of forcing her contact information into his phone so she could call him if she needed to cheat on a test, or if she wanted to steal his lunch money, and he would know who it was. Freddie took the abuse less than happily, but took it nonetheless. Most girls like Sam didn't even look his way. But she went out of her way to be around him, and even if sometimes – okay, most of the time – it caused him physical or emotional pain, it was better than being with somebody who didn't bother with him at all.

"Aw cheese, here I go again," he sighed, glancing at the sunset before him with a conflicted expression. "Thinking things. Why do I always think things?" With a motion so impulsive he might have thrown up right there from the sheer reality of what he was doing, he pressed 'Call.'

* * *

><p>After yet another impressive early dinner (Carly <em>really<em> knew how to cook – the night before they'd had some complex mix of pasta and salmon, and tonight was a delicious steak), Ben and Spencer headed to a fencing class for some male bonding, Emily, 'Clara,' Michael and Stephen sat down for a movie, and Carly and Sam headed upstairs, happy to be able to hang out just them for the first time in a while.

"…and then when I asked them why they tried to feed it," Carly continued her crazy story, shutting her bedroom door closed, "they were just like, 'It looked hungry'!" Sam burst out laughing.

"Getting stitches on your finger from a goat," she joked. "Only the best rights of passage for the Shay family!"

Carly rolled her eyes and smiled as she plopped down onto the edge of her bed, Sam taking the seat next to her. "Let's hope it doesn't happen with the next one."

"Shyea, that'd be – wait!" Sam stood up abruptly, whirling around to face her best friend. "Wait, wait, wait! Hold the wagon?... the _next _one?" She was grinning from ear to ear, Carly mirroring her. "Dude, are you - ?"

"I've got one in the oven!" Carly cried out. Both women screamed and Sam hug-attacked Carly, almost knocking her brains out.

"Dude!"

"I know!"

"Another mini-Carly!"

"I _know_!"

"This is so great!"

"_Yeah_, it is!"

They pulled away, laughing. "How far along are you?"

"About three weeks!"

"Well now I gotta think of some kind of upcoming-baby-present for ya…"

"Actually," Carly input, setting the plan into action, "I've thought about that already. And, well…" she hesitated, flashing Sam her legendary innocent look, "There's that high school reunion in two weeks…"

Sam let out a groan. "You're really going to go there, Shay?"

"Come on, Sam!" Carly prodded. "Just crash here for the next fourteen days and come to the reunion with me. It'll be _fun_!" Carly dragged out the word fun and poked Sam in the stomach several times. She swatted the poke attack away.

"Yeah, like a root canal is fun," Sam said dryly. "Or like getting chased by hungry bears is fun."

"There's nothing wrong with a little adrenaline rush," Carly teased. "Come on. Please?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Car-_ly_…"

Carly grabbed her arm. "Please? Please? Please? Please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please with bacon on top and cheese puffs in the middle?"

Sam let herself smile. Carly was without a doubt one of the only people she would do anything for, anytime, anywhere. "Actually make me that, and you've got yourself a deal."

"Yes!" Carly cheered and hugged her friend. She stood up and headed out the door, rambling on. "I'll go do that right now. Wow, with your weird appetite you'd think that you'd be the pregnant one. Oh, Gibby is going to be so excited! And Wendy…"

As Sam listened to Carly go through all the lists of names of people Sam once knew, she couldn't help but notice she left out one big, important name. The giant, nerdy elephant in the room.

She slapped her hand to her forehead, over and over. "What did I just do? Stupid, stupid, stupid."

* * *

><p>Downstairs, Mary and Emily were talking at the kitchen counter while Michael and Stephen were in video game combat zone, which involved most noticeably staring at the TV, eyes burning, in a zombie-like trance.<p>

"Must…destroy…brother…" Stephen mumbled.

"Wish…I…had…ice cream…" Michael added. Mary resisted the urge to join them, becoming more conscious of how visible her non-Clara-like behavior could be.

"Hey, Clara, can I do your nails?" Emily requested randomly.

"Sure, why not?" Mary shrugged. Emily clapped her hands excitedly.

"Fantastic!" she exclaimed, pulling a bottle of purple nail polish out of her jeans pocket completely at random. "I knew you'd agree sometime or other. Here, spread your hands out…" Mary did as she was told, placing her hands out on the table. Emily opened the polish container and pulled out the brush, wiping off the sides a bit before beginning to paint Mary's nails. "Oh, this is _so_ your color, hon…"

All of a sudden, as Emily went on to Mary's pointer finger, the nail polish container burst into flames. Mary yelped, wide-eyed, but surprisingly, Emily was eerily calm as she walked over to the kitchen sink, filled a cup with water, and returned moments later to extinguish the fire. She almost looked bored.

"That wasn't the least bit… scary for you?" Mary managed to spit out, watching the remaining smoke wafting from the container.

"Nah, I'm more than used to it by now," Emily said honestly. She frowned at the burnt polish. "Aw, and I really liked this color, too."

"I'm… sorry?" Mary tried.

Emily bowed her head. "So am I, Clara, so am I." Mary awkwardly patted her back, not sure how to react. Randomly, Emily brightened up again. "Care for some pie? I know Carly's got some left over!"

"I _deeply _care for some pie," Mary replied, her stomach grumbling despite that fact that dinner had been at 5, just forty-five minutes before. "Please," she added for good measure.

"Comin' right up!" Emily said happily, running for the fridge. "I'll add some whipped cream, too. Nothing like foamy sugar."

Part of Mary was so glad that these people, this family, was finally in her life, but another part of her feared they only loved her because they thought she was Clara. This especially worried her relative to her mom.

Speaking of which, a classic rock song suddenly exploded and buzzed from Sam's purse resting on the edge of the table.

"Mom!" Mary shouted, raising her head in hopes that her mom could hear her voice from upstairs. "Mom! Your phone's ringing!" The rock song continued to play with no sign of Sam marching downstairs anytime soon, so Mary dug through the extremely messy purse and pulled out the cell phone.

'_DO NOT ANSWER WHEN THIS NUB CALLS_,' the caller ID read. The contact was so lengthy that it had to scroll across the small screen in order to display the full name.

Mary's heart revved like an engine. _Oh my chiz, is it – could it be? Is **Dad** calling **Mom**?_

Just as the phone was about to send this mysterious nub's call to voicemail, Mary quickly and clumsily pressed 'Answer.'

* * *

><p><em> "You're not messing with me, are you?" Sam asked her boyfriend excitedly, dragging him by the arm down aisle five. She and Freddie were making the usual midnight and beyond snack run at MallMart. Senior year finals were tomorrow, but nothing was going to keep Sam away tonight. "Seriously, dude, if you are, I <strong>will<strong> mess up that cute face of yours." Freddie had only minutes ago told Sam that Kellogg was now officially putting MMA-themed prizes at the bottom of each box of Frosted Flakes. So naturally, she'd swept her dork away mid-sentence and shoved him into her car so she could get here in half the time it took a normal human being._

_ 'Cause seriously, speed limits were optional, right? Not according to Freddie, not that he compained much. The nerves got to him._

_ "Sam, I promise you," he reassured, "The contents of the cereal box will meet your expectations."_

_ "Sweet!"_

_ Towards the end of aisle five, she caught sight of the beautiful cereal in a beacon of light. She reached for a box, but Freddie beat her to it._

_ "Here, take this one," he said, almost hurriedly, grabbing one from the very top. She noticed he was twitching a little bit, something he often did when he was distracted. She made a mental doodle (Sam Puckett didn't take notes) to bug him about it later._

_ "O-kay," she shrugged, yanking the box out of his hands and opening the top to stick her hand in, blatantly and impatiently ignoring the fact that she hadn't yet paid for it. It made Freddie smile. _

_Sure enough, Sam withdrew two tickets to an upcoming MMA match. The excited scream she gave caught the attention of pretty much every night owl there._

"_Holy cheese!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe they're giving chiz like this out in freaking cereal boxes! Mama approves. You're comin' with me, right?" Freddie tried to get a word in. "Who am I kidding, 'course you are! This is so awesome!"_

"_You should sweep the bottom some more," Freddie suggested cleverly, "See if they're giving out free merchandise, too."_

_Sam smiled proudly and placed a hand on Freddie's shoulder. "I knew there was a reason I kept your brain around, Benson." Just as Freddie said, she stuck her hand back into the box and rummaged around the bottom. Oddly enough, her fingers struck nothing else paper-like. But she did find something._

_She swiftly pulled her hand out to reveal a small but absolutely dazzling engagement ring. After years of Sam predicting his every move, he took her absolutely, positively, beyond **flabbergasted** face in gleefully._

_Slowly, she looked up at him, the shock still there, full blast. "Kellogg is still cheap as eggs, isn't it?"_

_Freddie beamed, unfazed. "Yep."_

"_And these," Sam waved the tickets around, "Were planted."_

"_Yuh-huh."_

"_By **you**."_

"_Someone's totally catching on,"_

"_And…this," she held up the ring this time, marveling at it adorably, "This is from you, too?" At the last word, her voice cracked. He couldn't believe it. She was choking up. Because of **him**. He seized the moment._

"_Sam," Freddie cheesily took her hand and got down on one knee, "I've known you, like, practically forever, and have yet to find anyone as witty, frightening, abrasive… caring, determined, or beautiful. And I promise no matter what amounts of mess or craziness comes along, I'll always love you more." He stared into her eyes. It was always so hard to read her, but he hoped he was right in feeling confident in her answer. "Marry me."_

_She couldn't help but laugh. "That's not a question, you nub."_

"_Oh, that's 'cause I'm not taking no for an answer." Sam grinned, leaning down to punch him in the shoulder._

"_I'm game," she accepted. Freddie jumped up, did a ridiculous victory dance and kissed the bajesus out of her. Random customers around them clapped. The manager kicked them out for messing with unsold groceries. _

_All was well. And nobody expected what happened next._

**A/N: 'Kay, so, a few things before I go to SLEEP:**

**1 – You guys should check out "Bleach & Ear Infections," by MellowCloud, because it is so true to iCarly humor and just so incredibly funny and charming. :)**

**2 – I have a new YouTube account. Eh, well, it's not really new, I made it a while ago, but I've just started using it AND TODAY I uploaded a Seddie video that I made for fun. If you guys want to check it out, I'm supahgreekfan7 (yes, I do love the show Greek as well!)**

**3 – Out of sheer curiosity, what is the cutest proposal story you've heard? (Real or fake) Just wondering, 'cause I went to a wedding last weekend and so I've had wedding related things on my mind lately.**

**See ya!**

**-Colors**


	10. Trapter 10

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 10

Luckily, Mary was gifted in the art of on-the-spot-lying.

"Samantha Puckett's line," Mary chimed in the most robotic, airy tone she could produce, "This is…" Her eyes fell on the burnt bottle of nail polish, still resting uselessly on the counter. "Jen Polish speaking. How can I help you?" Emily, who had returned with the remainder of Carly's banana cream pie and two plates, gave Mary a questioning look. Mary stuck one finger in the air, and Emily shrugged, already helping herself to some pie.

"Uh, hi," the awkward, familiar, authoritative voice filled her ears, confirming her original suspicion. Her dad, for whatever reason, a reason she thanked the ham for, was calling her mom. After thirteen years. Mary heard Freddie clear his throat on the other end. "This is… a friend. Of Sam's. Sort of."

"Could you be a bit more specific?" Mary responded, suppressing excited giggles, "Sam has quite a few friends."

On the other end of the conversation, Freddie had his head on the steering wheel, his cell phone against his ear, so nervous that he was positive he was going to vomit. _Why am I doing this? I should just hang up. Hang up right now. End this stupid, illogical phone conversation._ "C-could you tell her that…" He swallowed, took a deep, deep breath, "That the nub is getting married?" The end of the question came out hurriedly, like his tongue was on hot coals and needed the words out as fast as possible. "She'll know who you're talking about. It's on September 1st, in Boston. Tell her she's invited. You know, if she wants to come." He could just see Sam rolling his eyes at him. He hadn't seen her in a while, a _long_ while, but he could never forget her look of annoyance, for it had been burned into his giant brain from childhood.

An idea struck Mary like brilliant lightning. Her innovative brain buzzed with the thrill. She simply couldn't get enough of scheming. It was in her blood. It was what she did best. It was what she did next.

"Oh, well, isn't this great timing," she said to the air. Emily listened in curiously, her mouth full of pie. "Sam _just_ walked in. Hi, Miss Puckett! Please hold."

Freddie's heart rate tripled instantly. He was so startled that he accidentally set off his car horn, and the few people in that particular Harvard parking lot sent him glares.

"What was that?" Clara mumbled sleepily, turning over in her seat.

"Everything's fine," Freddie stated, more to himself than his already back to sleeping daughter, "Breathe. Everything's fine."

"So I just spoke with Sam," Mary came back onto the phone, "She says she would appreciate a formal invitation."

Freddie couldn't believe his ears. "She…wants to come?"

"Yes, she does."

"…Actually?"

"That's what she told me."

"…This isn't a prank?"

"What would make you believe this to be a prank?" Mary covered her mouth, still trying not to laugh.

"Well, because…" Freddie tried, but then gave up, "Never mind. So I should just send it in the mail then?"

"No," Mary answered quickly, taking the bait, "Miss Puckett would prefer it to be in-person." From the other end, Mary could make out what sounded like a shocked, abrupt choking noise.

"_What?_" Freddie spluttered in disbelief. There was no way this could be happening. Sam had made it beyond clear she never wanted to see his 'nerd face' (her words, not his) ever again. He pinched himself, wincing at the pain. No, no he was awake, there was no doubt about it. This was real.

"She says she will be at the Ridgeway High reunion on August 15th." 'Jen Polish' explained to him. Freddie mentally did the math. _Today is the 5__th__. So that's ten days from now. _Did he dare?

It was odd, because he hadn't wanted her to want to come. He wasn't so sure what he _did_ want, but it definitely wasn't for her to want to come to his wedding.

"I'll be there," Freddie agreed, before he could change his mind, "With an invitation. And a smile." Back in Seattle, Mary did an appropriate victory dance, involving lots of jumping, twirling, and a one-handed Macarena.

Meanwhile, Freddie literally face-palm'd, realizing how much of an idiot he sounded like. _And a smile?_ At least he was speaking with Jen Polish, and not Sam directly. He would never hear the end of it, he'd imagine.

Of course, who knew, at this point? Maybe she wouldn't have insulted him at all.

This thought made him feel inexplicably lonely.

"Great!" Mary exclaimed, "She'll see you then. Good day!" Mary flipped the phone shut contentedly.

"Clara," Emily jumped in immediately, "What was that?"

"Um," Mary tried to stall, "Can I have some pie?" She reached for the box, but Emily slammed it shut.

"No pie 'til I am informed," she said, trying to be stern, though it was extremely difficult to take her seriously with the light-up earrings (definitely another gift from Spencer). "You've got some major 'splainin' to do, my dear." Fortunately for Mary, Sam and Carly chose that precise moment to appear on the stairway.

"…And you and Clara can stay in the iCarly –" Sam visibly flinched, "–studio if you want!" Mary caught the last half of Carly's sentence.

"Nah, we'll squeeze in here," Sam responded, knowing she would feel bad making Spencer house her and her daughter for the next week and a half. Her pride would not allow for it. "You've got a pretty comfortable couch."

"You sure?" Carly asked sincerely, as the two entered the kitchen, and Cary opened one of the cabinets. "I know Spencer wouldn't mind. You practically lived there through our entire public education."

Somehow, the idea of living in the iCarly studio did not sit well with Sam. Way, _way_ too many memories she had worked day and night to blur if not forget completely. "I'm definitely sure."

The sound of Carly opening and closing the kitchen cabinet did not go unnoticed by her sons.

` "Mom, what're you making?" Stephen called from his video game.

"A delightful combination of bacon and cheese puffs!" Carly hollered back, smiling playfully. Before Carly could say 'cheese puffs,' the two boys had paused the game and flung themselves shamelessly towards the kitchen.

"I want more than Michael gets!" Stephen demanded.

"What? No, Mom, that's so unfair!" Michael whined.

"Huh, that's funny," Carly said lightly as she poured the cheese puffs into a bowl. Sam took a seat next to Mary and watched in anticipation. "I didn't hear _either_ of you say the magic word."

"Please!" they both groaned.

"Okay, it'll be ready soon," Carly announced, "And everybody gets an equal share."

"Except Mama gets more, right?" Sam added. Carly gave her a wary look.

"I'll have some, too, Aunt Carly," Emily chimed in, "Pretty please."

"Why don't you guys move to the kitchen table?" Carly suggested, "More room for breathing and leaning and stuff." At more or less the same time, everyone evacuated the kitchen counter and took a seat at the table. Carly poured everybody a glass of water. Emily decided to challenge the boys to a three-way game of Tic Tac Toe, however that worked.

"So what was that I heard about a hotel?" Mary asked curiously.

"Uh, there's this… thing," Sam tried to explain without giving too much away. She had no idea how much 'Clara' actually knew. "That Aunt Carly and I have to do in town about ten days from now. So we're just going to hang around 'til then."

"Ha! Three in a row, fools!" Emily said triumphantly.

"Nuh-uh!" said Michael.

"Rematch!" insisted Stephen with a huff. "I call rematch!"

"Is it the Ridgeway High reunion?" Mary asked her mom innocently. Sam's eyes narrowed.

"How'd you know about that?" Sam asked, suspicious.

"Oh, well," Mary commenced stage two, "While you were upstairs, I pretended to be your secretary, and some dude called your cell phone." This caught Carly's attention, and she froze at the oven where bacon was currently sizzling.

"Some dude?" Sam clarified.

"Yeah, he wanted to know if you were coming to the reunion," Mary lied.

"Does this dude have a name?" Sam was surprised by how nervous the question left her. To ease the tension, she took a sip of water.

"Nope, but he called himself a nub," Mary replied with a nonchalant shrug. Sam spat out her water in shock. Carly accidentally dropped the frying pan of bacon.

"We're good!" she called out weakly, after discovering all the bacon to be accounted for.

"Maybe Dracula called," Stephen suggested, completely oblivious to Sam's wide eyes.

"Yeah, or Santa," Michael snickered.

Sam was stunned into silence. Then she was furious. How _dare_ he call her out of the blue like that! How _dare_ he allow Clara to talk to her own father without allowing her to know about it! The signature Puckett fight face slowly enveloped Sam's features, and the cup of water resting innocently in front of Sam's fist was slowly crushed until water spurted from its opening like a volcano.

"…Mom?" Mary asked carefully, unsure what to do. She hadn't been around the past thirteen years, after all, and Clara had failed to give Mary a crash course on what to do when Sam got angry.

"Clara, don't you _ever_ answer my phone again," Sam snapped, getting up to grab her phone from her purse and the bowl of cheese puffs, "I need to pee." With those parting words, Sam marched out of Carly's apartment, slamming the door behind her. The entire table was silent, half the table utterly confused.

"She does know that it's easier to use toilet paper for that, right?" Emily asked slowly, noticing the cheese puffs' absence.

"Aw, man, she took the puffs!" Stephen complained.

"It's okay, the bacon is the best part," Michael assured his brother.

"Mike, Stephen," Carly said curtly, her eyes on Mary, "Why don't you take some bacon and go sit on the couch?"

"Sweet!" they both said, jumping out of their seats and racing to the frying pan. Picking up on Carly's cues, Emily went with the boys. Carly took a seat next to Mary.

Mary wasn't one to cry, but before she knew it, she was tearing up, the world around her becoming an unfamiliar, wet blur. Of _course_ her mother would hate her after knowing her for only a few days. Of _course _she would screw things up like she did with everything else. She began to cry silently, her heart aching.

"Hey," Carly said softly, placing a hand on Mary's shoulder. This only made Mary start to sob. "Shh, shh, _Mary_, it's okay." She rubbed her back as Mary sniffled. "Your mom was just startled. She's not used to being taken by surprise like that."

"Sh-should I go after her?" Mary inquired through her tears.

"No," Carly shook her head, "No, just let her cool off. She'll come around, she'll go to the reunion, it'll be alright. Promise. I would even ankle-swear on it."

Mary sniffled once again. "Ankle-swear?"

Carly smiled. "Here, stand up. I'll teach ya."

* * *

><p>The elevator opened, and an aggravated blonde stepped onto the eighth floor of Bushwell Plaza. She raced past 8D and 8C, past 8B and 8A, her pace quickening with each passing second, until finally, she reached her destination.<p>

Letting loose one of her infamous frustrated groans, Sam thrust the large glass window open and stood on the ledge, staring out at the old fire escape she never seemed to be able to escape from.

She was both angered and relieved by the fact that through all the years of mistreatment, abandonment, the place was exactly as she had left it. Even Freddie's stupid, crooked fold-out chair remained, patient as ever, and it brought Sam back to warm, clear nights over college breaks where he would drag her out here with a second chair to look at the stars together. She would pretend to be bored by his astrological babble while secretly hanging on his every syllable.

Sam stared down at her black flats and stamped her right foot down. Here she had had her first kiss. Here she had fallen in love with the last person she'd ever expected to.

She dragged herself over to Freddie's discarded chair and plopped down, setting the bowl of cheese puffs onto her lap. She grabbed a piece and examined it, allowing her brain to wander in places she had for the past thirteen years guarded with mental electric fences and rabid dogs.

_"Meatball?" fourteen year-old Sam Puckett asked her frenemy, who was turning the volume down of an appropriate soft rock song. Her hand outstretched, the peace offering planted in the middle of her palm, fourteen year-old Freddie Benson gazed at her, sincerely perplexed._

_ "No thanks?" he answered, clearly unsure what to say to this. Sam didn't seem to mind though, as she merely shrugged and chucked the meatball off the fire escape._

_ Freddie watched the meatball fly to the ground only momentarily before shrugging slightly and facing the blonde, who was trying with all she had to muster up an apology, something she never before attempted. Freddie accepted the strange things she did, the mean things she said, always, through and through. _

_ He knew her inside out and was still here. And that, that was why._

_ This is dumb_, she'd decided with a huff. _I'm in my mid-thirties, and I'm sitting on a dirty fire escape eating cheese balls. Man up, Puckett. _

So he wanted to see him. Big deal. Lots of people wanted things they never got. And it wasn't like she reciprocated the feeling, or ever would. Because she didn't.

Not in the least.

And maybe if she repeated this to herself enough times, it would be true.

_"I was just going to say…"_

_ "That __**we**__ should kiss?"_

_ "You're gonna break my arm now, aren't you."_

_ "No."_

"I come bearing gifts!" Sam whirled around to see Spencer, crawling in, a plate of bacon in his hands.

"Hey, Spence," Sam said absentmindedly, "I'm guessing your sister spilled the beans?"

"Carly and I just thought you would want the second half of your snack," Spencer went on to say, taking the liberty of dumping the plate's contents into Sam's bowl. Awkwardly, the man who had somehow become like a brother to Sam over the years took a seat next to her on the floor. From afar, the scene would seem absolutely silly, a grown man in a fencing outfit sitting pretzel style next to a woman in a chair eating bacon and cheese puffs, but to both of them, this was serious business.

"If you're out here to convince me to go to that reunion," Sam warned, "I would just leave now before things get ugly." Spencer winced in fear but stood his ground.

"_I'm_ going," he said, as if that would change things.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So do you have any idea how many totally insane ex-girlfriends I'm going to run into?" he went on, silly as always. He raised his fingers and began counting them off. "There's Jessica the mime enthusiast, Danielle the sorceress, Elaine, who firmly believed she turned into a rhinoceros at sundown, Cathy, who never bathed…"

"Remind me when I asked for a detailed timeline of your high school love affairs?" Sam stopped him, having heard enough.

"My point is," Spencer explained, "That it ended. With all those crazy people, one way or another. Either I got hurt, or they did, or both. But maybe I'll go to that reunion and finally give or get some closure. Or _maybe_," Sam should've known. Spencer may be loony, but there was always a light at the end of his madness. "I'll rediscover something I once had, or something that had always stayed with me, and then I'll _finally be happy and stop moping around on fire scapes eating cheese puffs_!" He raised his hands in the air and stood up, backing away. "I'm just saying!" The last three words were spoken in a British accent, which he continued, to say, "I'm going to go now before you kill me. Peace!" He ran out the open window.

"You'll never be British!" Sam called after him.

"Stop crushing my dreams!" he called back spastically. Sam softly chuckled to herself.

Yet she couldn't deny that Spencer sort of had a point. At least about closure, for she refused to even contemplate the second half of his motivational speech.

With a sigh, Sam took out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Gretchen? Yeah, it's Sam… no, yeah, I'm fine… what're you doing on the 15th? I'm going to need some back-up."

* * *

><p>"Well, isn't this wonderful?" No need to use names for <em>that<em> sentiment.

It was about eight at night, and Freddie, Clara, Rose and Marissa Benson were seated at Freddie's large family-style kitchen table. It was so large, in fact, that each person had their own entire side of the table, leaving just enough space in between for the dinner to be extremely, extremely awkward.

"So, Rose, dear," Marissa broke the uncomfortable silence with an appropriate question to ask over a fancy steak dinner, "What is your blood type?"

Clara watched as Rose tried to remain polite. "I'm… not sure, actually."

"I ask because I want to make sure you are a potential donor should Freddie have an accident," Marissa elaborated, wide-eyed and oblivious. Bored as ever, Clara decided to pull the video camera out, hoping this little get-together would spring to life when a camera became involved. Or at the very least, filming the scene would help it end faster.

"Mary," Freddie scolded, as Clara zoomed in on his face, "C'mon, put that away. We're eating." She would have had she not detected a hint of a smile on her dad's face. She hoped this meant he was just as bored as she was.

"I have to agree," Rose chimed in, glancing at the lens in a subtly superior way that reminded Clara of every girl that had ever bullied her, "It would be much better if we all conversed rather than play with toys at the table."

"This isn't/That is not a toy!" Clara and Freddie said at the same time. They looked at each other. Freddie cleared his throat awkwardly and continued. "It's, um, it's my camera. And it's very expensive."

"I hope it's not flammable," Marissa said worriedly, "Freddie, get that away from Mary. You know how I feel about technology!"

"I'll be careful," Clara promised, and swiped the camera past every face at the table. Marissa looked blissfully unaware of the tension in the room. Rose looked like she was trying too hard. Freddie, well, to be honest, Freddie just looked plain miserable.

Which was interesting, considering the woman he planned on spending the rest of his life with was about a foot and a half away.

Apparently everyone had forgotten about the camera because Marissa continued her terribly timed questions. "Do you two plan on procreating? Because as lovely as you are, dear – " This was directed at Clara. Freddie slapped his hand to his face in embarrassment. "I'd love to see what sorts of beings could emerge from your gene pool."

"Mom," he moaned, "Stop. Please. I beg of you."

"Oh, Fredward, don't be so immature," Marissa disciplined.

"I don't believe Fredward and I have had that discussion yet," Rose responded through gritted teeth.

"Oh, well then." Everybody settled into another awkward silence and went back to chewing.

That was, of course, until Rose let out an earsplitting screech and stood up on her chair, screaming and pointing at the table. Clara was so startled that she almost missed the shot. Almost.

Freddie stood up immediately, glancing around frantically. "What? What's going? What's happening?"

"BUG!" Rose cried, gesturing wildly to the daddy long legs spider that had somehow made it's way onto the table,. She screeched again as it crawled towards her. "K-KILL IT! KILL IT, FREDDIEBEAR!"

"I'll get the disinfectant!" Marissa offered, pulling herself up and racing upstairs. Freddie found a random _People_ magazine, rolled it up, and murdered the poor bug in one shot. Rose breathed an overly dramatic sigh of relief and took a seat once again, just as Marissa came back down and sprayed the place silly with an unidentifiable, stinky gas that made everyone gasp for air.

_Oh my Einstein_, Clara couldn't help but giggle to herself_, this is__** gold**__._

"Fredward," Rose gasped, grabbing the magazine from Freddie's tired hands and shaking the dead spider onto the floor, "You did _not_ just use the new _People_ to whack that spider! I haven't even read it yet!"

"I – sorry," he stuttered, feeling guilty, "I was just trying to… you were so freaked out…"

"You are just ridiculous!" Rose shook her head, "How could you do this to me?"

"I'll get you a new one!" Freddie said quickly. Rose smiled.

"Now there's the man I love," she cooed. Clara made sure to get a shot of pushing her own food away in disgust. She would never eat again. Ever.

"You know, it's quite funny," Marissa noted, getting up to clear the table, "Sam definitely would have just let that spider be." She vacated her spot, leaving a shocked Freddie, a confused Rose, and Clara, who had just gained more respect for her grandmother than she ever thought she would.

"Sam?" Clara asked loudly and dramatically, reading Rose's thoughts, "Who is this Sam?"

"Yes, Freddie, I was just wondering the same thing." Rose looked, as Mary would say, pissed like nobody's business.

Freddie rubbed his temples. How Sam managed to torment him even after thirteen years apart, and a whole country away, he would never know. "Sam," he explained, "Is the bane of my existence."

Clara shut the camera off.

**A/N: Silly Freddie, understatements are for kids.**

**(Not really, but I thought it worked with the situation at hand.)**

**Anyway, I'd like to take this moment to FREAK OUT about the promo for the upcoming iCarly episode, iLost My Mind. OH MY GOD! AH! AH! AH! AH! Can't. Wait. Must. View. Ewgrrsgstdfhgsgdfszgbsdbnf**

**Okay, sorry. Had to.**

**In case you guys are wondering, you haven't met Ben for a reason. I purposely made all the iCarly gangs' marriage imperfect, just 'cause I thought it'd be more realistic. Of course, Carly and Ben are happy, it's just he works a lot and is really busy. I don't see it necessary to meet him, although if anyone wants to I wouldn't mind adding him in.**

**I hope you liked this chapter. I hope Mary didn't seem OOC when she cried. You've got to remember, she's a thirteen year-old girl, and though they are similar in many ways, she and Sam are entirely different people, as Mary's got a bit of Freddie in her, as Mrs. Benson said, "gene pool." LOL. Poor Freddie.**

**Okay, I'm going to end this super long A/N and post this now. Enjoy! :)**

**-Colors**


	11. Trapter 11

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 11

_May 29__th__, 2021, marked four years._

_ Sam Puckett, currently forced into the older, scarier half of her twenties, wandered along the long-abandoned grass, her daughter a bit over four years old grasping onto one hand, an out-of-place, colorful wrapped pastry in the other._

_ "Mommy," the unusually perceptive girl asked, scanning the miles of tombstones before gazing up at her mother in confusion, "Why are we here?"_

_ It was a warm night, unlike last year when it rained and rained, and Sam told herself countless times last night that she was going to do everything in her power to remain serious today. Because of all the days to bare some semblance of an adult – and those days were far and few between - this held the utmost importance._

_ She watched the sun set over some buried personalities who would never get to do so again. "Don't worry, kid, we're just visiting your grandma."_

_ Sam didn't bother to remember much. During high school she'd had more than enough trouble remembering facts and rules, something she really had to work at to get where she had gone. Then later on in life, people's faces, friends' birthdays, the list went on. However, this left breathing room for the things that mattered most to Sam, the memories so viciously explicit that sometimes she thought they might cut her wide open._

_ "Oh," Clara said quietly, struggling to keep up with Sam's quickened pace, despite the connection of their hands._

_ Halfway through the graveyard, by the big oak tree, stood Pam Puckett's crooked tombstone._

_ Clara, sharp enough to remember the annual routine, gracefully sat down a few feet away and watched as Sam stepped toward the grave, her typical brave stance unknowingly dissipating with each piece of ground covered._

_ "'Sup, Ma," Sam greeted, trying to sound casual, "It's Sam and Clara. Though you probably knew that already, both of us could smell junk food from a mile away – oh, speaking of which…" Sam tossed the double-stuffed Fat Cake she was holding onto the grave. She knew, of course, that birds would tear it apart, and the wind would carelessly blow the wrapper away, but still, she figured her mom would appreciate it much more than she would stupid, inedible flowers. "We got you double-stuffed this time."_

_ "Twice the Fat Cake, twice the fun!" Clara sang the familiar jingle from her spot behind Sam, who briefly beamed proudly at her baby._

_ "Anyway," Sam went on, trying to keep her face even, "We miss you. It's been… a nutty year, for sure. Clara and I are still workin' through the mess you left in that apartment – thanks, by the way." She softly kicked a rock to the side, letting it roll down the eerie but gentle hill. It grew darker without Sam realizing it. "Mel's good, still in Africa helping all those kids. Carly says hi. She and Ben are gonna be parents soon, and she's really psyched about it. Spencer and his she-devil wife say hi, too. Clara ate an entire pie by herself last night, you'd be so -" Her voice involuntarily cracked, like a broken heart, "__**Proud**__. We miss you. Did I say that already?" She tried to laugh but to no avail. Her chest was growing tighter; her nails were digging harder into her palms. "I know that wherever she is, Mary misses you, too."_

_ "Who's Mary?" Clara called as she picked at the grass. This only made Sam feel worse._

_ "I wish you were here right now," she confessed quickly, blinking back tears she couldn't afford. "You'd be all, __**man up, Sam. People die, we move on. It's life**__." Sometimes, life was lonely. Sam let out a frustrated combination of groan and sigh. "Man, do I need you right now. More than ever. It's been almost four years and sometimes, lots of times, I still feel this irritating, magnetic need to call __**him**__, and talk to __**him**__, hear __**his**__ stupid, nerdy voice. And I can't even call you to complain about it."_

_ From her position behind Sam, Clara got up and waddled over to her mom, clutching an arrangement of grass. "Look, Mommy, I made you a grass bracelet." Clara smiled happily as she placed it on Sam's wrist. "I made Gramma a bracelet, too." She crouched down on her knees, her tush up in the air, and softly placed the grass bracelet atop the grave. Sam smiled softly down at her, then glanced back at her mom's resting place one more time._

_ "Love you, Mom, see you next year," Sam said, before grabbing Clara's hand once again and heading out. As they approached the exit, a tall, old woman with wide, overprotective eyes carefully stepped in, holding a fat free Fat Cake. Sam recognized her immediately, and practically all the color drained from her face. She froze where she stood._

_ "Why aren't we walking?" Clara asked in almost a whining way, tugging on Sam's arm. Sam and the woman made brief eye contact, and the empathy in the old woman's eyes took Sam back to a time where the best, most attentive medical advice was an effortless phone call away._

_ Slowly, the woman walked into the cemetery, fidgeting with the slightly healthier Fat Cake awkwardly. Obviously, she was not so used to junk food in her hand. "Hello, Sam."_

_ "Hi, Mrs… Benson." The name sliced her like a thousand, evil knives because it used to be her own. Clara, sensing the tension, hid behind Sam's legs, peering up at the unfamiliar woman. Mrs. Benson gawked at the little girl, simply amazed she was actually in her presence._

_ "She's just beautiful," she remarked softly, before walking past the two, the same destination in mind._

* * *

><p>Clara's eyes traced the number hanging above each door as she wandered through the third floor hallway of Boston Suites, a relatively nice hotel located a few blocks from the Benson residence.<p>

Of course, her dad had no idea she was here. Theoretically, she was at her school friend Caroline's house, having a 'supervised water balloon fight.' The lie had purpose; after all, it would be noticeably out of character for Mary Benson to willingly visit her grandmother, especially after she'd had an earful of the woman all week – lectures, rhymes, structured crafts projects, things that Clara usually didn't mind but somehow became extremely irritating on account of her grandmother's overbearing personality. Clara expected lying to Freddie would be awkward and guilt-inducing, but found, to her surprise, that continuously lying to him about her true identity had made everything else easier.

_37, 37… Where is 37?_ For some reason, the room numbers were not in numerical order, which exponentially irked the ever-organized teenager. It was just plain unprofessional.

After what was only a few minutes but felt like hours, Clara finally found herself knocking on room 37's door once, then twice. Vaguely, she could hear a vacuum going off inside, and knocked louder a third and fourth time. Soon afterwards, the vacuum clicked off and the door swung open.

"Mary! Such a surprise!" Marissa enveloped her granddaughter in a spine-altering hug and quickly ushered her inside. "Come in, come in, I was just finishing vacuuming the toilet!"

Clara froze where she stood, perplexed. _Vacuuming the toilet?_

"Dust is tricky and hard to dispose, sometimes it hides where our pee-pee goes!" Marissa recited, as if the creepy rhyme were enough explanation.

"Got it," Clara nodded absentmindedly. She was still standing, twiddling her thumbs as her grandmother returned to her vacuum duty (no pun intended – though Clara suspected Mary would be laughing her immature butt off at that one). Honestly, her reaction to the unprecedented cleaning would have been a tad more… disgusted, had it not been for the inconsolable butterflies invading her stomach at what she was definitely about to do. No turning back.

Not that she got here with ease. All night she'd paced Mary's room, with a complete lack of sense of time, muttering to herself, talking herself in and out, in and out. At one point she was even desperate enough to take a whack at Mary's dartboard set, which did not turn out too well as evidenced by one dart stuck above the desk and one in Freddie's shoe; Clearly, the time he chose to check on his daughter had been in dangerous tangent with her final, frustrated throw. At least they didn't have to go to the hospital or anything.

She was here. She'd made it. All she needed to do was speak.

The vacuum shut off once again and Marissa exited the bathroom and marched back into the main room where Clara stood. Behind her, the toilet sparkled like sunshine.

"So what brings you here, Mary?" Marissa inquired cheerfully, setting the vacuum to the side.

"I – "

"Because now that I think about it, I could really use some help vacuuming the vacuum – it's not as easy as it sounds…"

"Grandma, there's something I need to – "

"Of course, you _are_ a minor, so it might be easier if you cleaned – "

Clara clenched her fists. "_I'm-not-Mary-I'm-Clara!_"

After a beat of confusion, Marissa softly chuckled. "I'm sorry, I thought you just said… well, never mind that, you'll have to excuse the old ears…"

"No, you heard right," Clara assured her grandmother, quite nervously. She broke eye contact. "Mary and I got sent to the same camp. We switched places. Mary's in LA, and I'm…" She looked up again, meeting Marissa's wide-eyed gaze. "Well, I'm here. I'm Clara. Please don't tell my dad."

"Oh, my Lanta," Marissa gasped, putting her hand to her mouth and shaking her head violently. Clara reached out in an attempt to calm her grandmother.

"Grandma," she stated, as Marissa began to sputter incoherently, something about twins and decades and Freddie and antibacterial soap, "Breathe. _Breathe_."

"Clara!" she wailed, gripping onto her long-lost granddaughter for dear life, "Clara, it's you! It's really you! I can't believe it! My granddaughter… s-so grown up!"

"I missed you," Clara felt she should say.

Marissa began to sob uncontrollably, leaving Clara to awkwardly pat her back until she calmed down.

When she eventually did, Clara continued, "Last week. At dinner. You mentioned my mom."

"Oh, yes," Marissa nodded enthusiastically, wiping her eccentric tears, "A feisty meatball of a woman, that one. How is she?"

"Fine," Clara said honestly, "Could be better. That's… why I'm here." Marissa nodded again, this time with less enthusiasm.

"It's a funny thing," she said, sniffling, "I detested your mother from the moment she entered your father's life as a child. But as soon as they got together, it was practically impossible to continue doing so. It's a mother's dream for their son to be as happy as Freddie was with Sam Puckett."

"Do you think _Rose_ is making him that happy?" Clara asked hesitantly. "Because I just don't see it."

"Clara, Freddie is letting go. I respect that decision, and you should, too."

"He doesn't _need_ to let go!"

"What are you - ?"

"Listen, Grandma, what I wanted to know…" Clara gulped, the question that had been flooding her mind ever since June surfacing, "I mean, you probably know better than anyone else… What _happened_ to them? And… and… is it too late to fix it?"

Marissa looked pensive for a moment, something even Clara, who had only known the woman for a brief period of time, could figure was out of character for her. With a sigh, her grandmother opened a nearby closet, pulled out a box labeled 'IMPORTANT FREDDIE ITEMS' – why Marissa would bring that all the way across the country was beyond Clara.

Nonetheless, she slowly removed a cased DVD and handed it over to her granddaughter.

"See for yourself," she said, with some form of a sad smile.

Mary's cell phone, which was in Clara's pocket, buzzed. When Clara saw her own cell phone number flash across the screen, she had no choice but to check it.

_SOS! _It read.

"I-I've got to go!" Clara stammered, her heart pounding. "I'll see you when we come up for the reunion in two days!" The reunion itself was three days away, but Freddie planned on flying up the day before and staying the night at his mother's apartment in Bushwell Plaza. Clara gave her grandmother a huge hug. "I love you." With that, Clara zoomed out the door, her mind racing back and forth between the DVD in her hand and her twin in trouble.

Marissa stared after her, tears welling up in her eyes yet again. "Oh, she's just _beautiful_."

* * *

><p>Mary paced back and forth across Mike and Stephen's carpeted bedroom floor, opening and closing Clara's cell phone every five seconds or so in somewhat of an impatient panic.<p>

"Call, call, call, call, call," she muttered, over and over, "_Please_ call." By some random miracle, the phone began buzzing, and Mary flipped it open halfway through the first ring.

"Clara?"

"Yes, it's me!" Clara said from the other end, her voice dripping with concern, "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is Mom okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're all fine and peachy, except _we have a problem_!" Mary practically shouted into the phone.

"Well, tell me then!" Clara exclaimed worriedly.

"Mom is _refusing,_" Mary explained, "to let me come to the reunion with her."

It was a totally random turn of events. Despite Mary's mistake in casually mentioning Freddie had called, Sam was acting like her normal self throughout the week and all seemed to be forgiven. However, that afternoon, while Mary, Sam, Carly and Emily were making cupcakes, Gretchen had called about flight and meeting arrangements.

"Gretchen is coming to the reunion?" Mary asked curiously once Sam had hung up and tossed her phone to the side.

"Yup," Sam answered as she licked some batter off her finger, making a popping noise while pronouncing the 'p'.

"Awesome," Mary commented, before frowning, "Wait a sec, is she bringing her car?"

"Nope," Sam said, popping the 'p' again, "Why?" Carly glanced at us nervously. Emily started singing a song from the broadway classic _The Tiger King_ for no apparent reason.

"Well, ya know," Mary explained, stirring the batter, "It's just, how's she gonna get there? Uncle Spencer's car is immobile from that whole fire incident, we've only got space for six in Aunt Carly's car, and with you, Aunt Carly, Uncle Ben, Uncle Spencer, Emily, and me, there's…" Mary paused mid-sentence, noticing Carly's disapproving face directed at Sam's awkward, borderline guilty one.

"Sorrym kid, I thought you knew," Sam clarified, "You're not coming."

"_What?_" Mary shouted, yanking the big wooden spoon out of the bowl and splattering batter everywhere, "Are you kidding me, Mom? Why?"

"_It's the oval of life, and it moves us all..._" sang Emily.

"Someone needs to babysit the munchkins!" Sam said defensively.

"We're not munchkins!" Mike and Stephen shouted from their designated spot in front of the television.

"Doctor Smith says I'm tall for my age," Michael added with a huff. Emily stopped singing.

"I don't mind watching them," she offered with a shrug.

"Stay out of this, Em!" Sam ordered, narrowing her eyes. Then, she sighed. "Just trust me, Clara. It's best you stay home."

"But – "

"Less but's, more stirring! Mama wants her 'cakes!"

Mary had finished the cupcake process as quickly as possible before fleeing up the stairs to call her twin, at a loss of what to do.

"Are you serious?" Clara now asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I'm serious!"

"That decimates our entire plan!" A few nights ago, the girls had arranged a time to call each other and map out their next step. Once Freddie arrived at Bushwell Plaza, which would be the night before the reunion, both girls were going to confess they were actually each other, leaving their parents practically no choice but to plan some sort of arrangement to switch them back, face-to-face, no shortcuts, no ways out. They'd be trapped.

"No chiz!" Mary snapped, "And I _know_ it's because she doesn't want to risk the two of us meeting, or me meeting Dad."

"I love the dramatic irony," Clara joked.

"Cut the science jargin, sis."

"That wasn't science – "

"_Clara!_" Mary cut her off sharply. "_What do I do?_ We have to tell _both_ Mom and Dad at the _same_ time, with _both _of us there, otherwise it's not gonna work! They're too smart and stubborn, we _both _know they'd find some way around meeting up to make the switch. You know, avoid talking about the future, _Especially_ Mom."

Clara knew the answer halfway through Mary's rant. "I think it's time, Mary."

"Huh? No, the bacon segment on the food channel isn't on 'til seven-thirty…"

"No, no!" Clara rolled her eyes and smiled, "You need to tell Mom the truth. Now. Before the reunion. Then she'll have no choice but to take you along."

"What? No. No way." Mary shook her head, though she knew Clara couldn't see her. It was too early, she hadn't had enough time to make Sam love her for _her,_ and not as Clara. And as soon as she spilled the beans, she'd be out of here, never to see her mom or Carly or Spencer or any of these zany, unforgettable people again.

"Yes way!" Clara insisted. "Think about it, Mary. This will actually work so much better. Dad has already tried – and failed – to reach out to Mom. If we only tell Mom, and leave Dad in the dark, then Mom will _have_ to make the first move in resolving this whole situation."

"Dude, I can't tell Mom," Mary argued, frustrated, "I _can't_."

"Can't tell me what, Clara?" Mary was so utterly startled by the interruption that the jolt she made sent Clara's cell phone soaring to the ceiling, then crashing to the floor into pieces.

"Mom!" Mary whirled around shakily and smiled, casually stepping around the cell phone appendages, "_Heeeey_! What's shakin'?"

Sam was hearing none of this. "Just came up here to check on you, and stuff, but now," Sam glanced up at the ceiling and examined the damage, "Now I'd like to know what prompted that charming dent in Carly's ceiling." She crossed her arms as Mary visibly gulped, her heart thumping in her ears. "Well? I'm waiting."

Mary took a hard, deep breath and stepped forward. Maybe Sam was waiting for answers, but Mary had been waiting for a mom her whole life. Her mom was alive, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, right before her eyes, and ready or not, Mary could wait no longer.

**A/N: THE END!**

**Haha, just kidding.**

**So yeah. We've got some new information regarding Sam's past. We've got a mysterious DVD. We've got a squeaky clean toilet seat. We've got an obliterated cell phone, and a Sam who has run out of patience. So what next, what next? Only time will tell.**

**ALSO, if any of you are in need of an incredible dose of Seddie awesomeness, I highly recommend the two-shot "Off Balance," by the very talented lluna101. It may possibly be the best Seddie story ever… in my opinion.**

**ALSO ALSO, is anyone else having trouble with PMing? I can't send any of my PMs, and can only read my inbox through my email. It's really annoying. I can't even respond to my reviews, which sucks. **

**For now, THANKS, YOU GUYS! I love you all and thank you for taking the time to read and review my words. :)**

**How was everyone's 4****th**** of July?**

**-Colors**


	12. Trapter 12

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 12

"_Still _waiting, Clara."

Mary swallowed her variety of doubts, knowing it was more or less now or never.

"Um, _so_…" she began, trying to lighten the tension, "Y-ya know how you've got that other daughter? Mary? Well, um… She's me. I'm her."

At first, Sam firmly believed she had heard her daughter wrong. There was no way. Just… no way. "Wait, _what_… did you just say?"

Mary stepped forward hesitantly, a rare motion for the senseless girl. "Plunger the water out of your ears, Mom. It's me. Mary. Remember _me_?"

Sam let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. _Okay, Sam, calm down. Hold yourself together. _But it was no use. The beautiful baby girl she had watched Freddie Benson carry away was now here, real, standing before her. Tall. Strong. With a total attitude problem Sam knew all too well.

"Mary," Sam said softly, her hard heart melting. Mary's name falling from her mother's tongue was like falling asleep to the sound of rain pattering the roof, like waking up on a Saturday morning with the sun streaming through the window: so, _so _unbelievably comforting. Both could just cry right here, right now. Sam couldn't contain it anymore. Her shocked appearance morphed into a grin the size of Texas and she bent over, her arms spread out wide. "Get over here, ya crazy chick!"

She didn't have to tell Mary twice. Mary bolted to her mom and allowed herself to be enveloped in a gigantic, long-awaited hug. And it was all okay in that hug. Everything was okay.

Sam was not and would never be one to cry, yet she couldn't pull back the bits and pieces of tears stinging at her eyes if she'd tried. Her baby was back in her arms. It was unbelievable. It was a self-regenerating ham of a moment, too good to be true. Everything was okay.

"How are you here?" Sam asked, refusing to pull away from Mary, "How'd you find me? Where's Clara?"

"Clara and I met at Sparkle Lake, and it all sort of spilled out," Mary answered, hugging her mom tighter.

Sam remembered how her best friend had recommended the camp to her. "Carly," she grunted, rolling her eyes.

"We switched places," Mary went on to explain, "I'm sorry, please, please don't hate me. I just really wanted to meet you, and Clara, well, she really wanted to meet Dad. Are you mad at me? Do you still love me?"

"I've loved you your whole life, kid," Sam responded without the slightest hesitation, ruffling her hair as they slowly pulled away.

"Even though I'm not Clara?" Mary asked, sounding completely childish and not caring so much. She _was_ a child. She was _Sam and Freddie's_ child – one of them, anyway - and proud of it.

"Even though you're not Clara," Sam confirmed. She looked away, almost ashamed, "I'm sorry I disappeared, Mary. I'm sorry you spent your whole life without me. Maybe some day I'll be able to tell you why."

"_Or_ you could tell me now," Mary tried.

"_Or_," Sam corrected her, hearing none of that, "Or we could call your Dad up and sort this whole mess out." She visibly cringed at the thought.

Mary perked up. "You're gonna call Dad?" Then, she frowned, remembering the plan. "But Mom, that reunion's only a couple days away. Why don't you just - ?"

"No, we need to work this chiz out now," Sam insisted, "And I'm not gonna call your dad, you are."

"But Mom – "

"_After_," Sam continued, squeezing Mary's hand, "Some epic Mom-and-Mary bonding. What do you like to do?"

"Anything that involves meat and reckless activity," answered Mary excitedly.

"Spoken like a true Puckett!" Mary grinned. Her mom really was her hero. If only Sam would let herself be saved sometimes. Everyone needed saving sometimes. Even a true Puckett.

* * *

><p>"<em>Helloooo!"<em> Rose knocked daintily on Bushwell Plaza's 8D, paying no mind to Freddie and Clara standing behind her with their arms full of luggage. "Yoo-hoo! Marissa! Mother-To-Be! Anybody home?"

Freddie and Clara had each brought a single, relatively small suitcase, while Rose opted to bring five zebra-patterned suitcases for their two-night stay. Moreover, the whole plane ride she had complained of 'massive back pains,' forcing Freddie and Clara to carry all of her stuff. The only thing she deemed 'healthy' for her to carry was her large pair of sunglasses; apparently no one had told her it always rained in Seattle.

The reunion was solely one day away, and about twenty-four hours earlier, Rose had decided, to Freddie's surprise and to Clara's dismay, to join them, claiming she had always wanted to travel to a foreign country. After Freddie had carefully explained that Seattle was, in fact, a part of the United States, the woman still wanted to tag along. Now, here they were, at Grandma Marissa's door.

Clara smiled, despite the weight of the annoyingly animalistic luggage she was enduring, because she knew that her twin was now just a few stories down, along with her mom. Her family – her _whole_ family - was finally within arm's reach.

Marissa opened the door, smiling widely, "Oh, I'm so glad you're all here! I just pulled a fresh loaf of cucumber bread out of the oven! Come in, come in!" She ushered the three inside, and Freddie and Clara dropped the overflow of bags in the center of the living room.

"Careful with those, dears!" Rose requested airily, "Some of it is quite important!" Clara glanced at one of the bags, labeled 'NAIL POLISH,' and made a show of rolling her eyes.

"Mary, be nice," Freddie scolded.

"Why, that's not Mary!" Marissa corrected obliviously. Clara cleared her throat and shook her head wildly, as Freddie stared, confused at the statement, "U-um, April Fool's, son! Now, why don't we all sit down and eat?"

"Sounds great," Freddie said with a nod, "But first, I think I'll go say hi to Carly and the twins." Clara's eyes grew wide.

"Oh, I'll join you!" Rose offered, "It'd be so wonderful to meet them!" Clara's eyes grew wider, and she literally ran to the door and spread her arms out in front of it just before Freddie and Rose exited.

"B-but you just got here!" Clara argued shakily, "You should… rest! Yes! Resting sounds fantastic! Doesn't it sound fantastic? Let's all go rest!"

Freddie raised an eyebrow. "Did somebody sprinkle crazy in your cereal this morning?" In any other situation, Clara would have basked in that comment, for she knew from her childhood that that question was a Sam Puckett original. However, in the moment, she just wanted Rose and her father to step away from the door. He couldn't come face-to-face with Sam. Not yet.

"Come to think of it, Fredward," Rose added, stifling a yawn, "It _has_ been a long trip. I could really use a nap!" With that, she strutted upstairs, without bothering to ask where she would be staying. Because of course, Rose stayed where she wanted to stay.

"Okay…" Freddie said to no one, looking pretty disappointed; he really missed Carly, after all. He missed a lot of things. "Guess I'll wait then."

"Who's up for a rousing game of Apples to Apples?" Marissa asked enthusiastically, holding the game box up for all to see. "With gloves, of course," she added, "The corners of those cards could break skin!"

Clara and her father glanced at each other. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>Luckily for the twins, Apples To Apples over-stimulated Grandma Benson, and Freddie was simply really tired from the plane ride over, so they both fell asleep on the couch.<p>

Mary was sitting out on the fire escape expectantly, her laptop resting on a small, portable table in front of her, when Clara was finally able to make her escape. When Mary saw her twin slide the glass window open, she jumped up immediately and pounced into a hug.

"Dude, you're here!" she cried, releasing Clara and punching her in the shoulder good-naturedly. "Great to see ya, sis."

"Sshh!" Clara reminded Mary, "It's great to see you, too, but we don't want to disturb the crazies sleeping inside."

"Yeah, yeah, whatevs," Mary waved her warning off, "Did you bring it?"

"Of course I brought it," Clara answer with a roll of her eyes. She reached into her sweatshirt pocket and pulled out the DVD Grandma Marissa had passed on. Mary took it from her and examined it. "I couldn't watch it without you."

"Wonder what it is," Mary pondered.

"I suppose we're about to find out," Clara said with a shrug, "Insert it!"

"Inserting!"

* * *

><p><em>"Here we are at the park," Twenty-two year-old Freddie Benson announced happily, shifting the camera to his wife and two beautiful baby girls. They were all sitting on a big picnic blanket, awaiting the arrival of Spencer and his wife, Emily, Carly and Ben. "Ladies and gentleman, I give you Sam Benson! And co!"<em>

_ Sam shot a glare at the camera but couldn't stop the small smile playing at her lips. "Do you have to bring that thing everywhere we go, Freddork?" To her right, Clara rolled onto her back and started wiggling her toes in the air. Mary was classily blowing spit-bubbles._

_ "You know you love it," Freddie retorted with his signature smirk._

_ "Nyehh!"_

_ "Nyehh!"_

* * *

><p>"<em>Clara, say it again!" Freddie said excitedly, zooming in on the 6-month-old gurgling baby. Beside her sat Mary, chewing on a baby toy with a blank look on her face. "Say it for daddy!"<em>

"_Da-da!" Clara exclaimed in a loud, proud voice, waving her arms around._

"_Did you hear that?" Freddie addressed Sam, who was sitting right by his side. "She totally just said my name! Her first word!"_

"_Aw, man," Sam said jokingly, "I had my money on her first word being 'nub.' Guess I'll have to try harder with Mary." Mary proceeded in rolling over on top of Clara, who started bawling, and Sam threw herself into the shot, picking up both girls and bouncing them on her knee. The tears ceased almost instantly as the twins started to giggle. From behind the camera, Freddie beamed._

* * *

><p>"<em>So-ho wake up the members of our naaaation, it's our time to be!" Sam sang along to the radio, her hands strumming the car wheel in front of her. The sun was streaming through the window, making Sam look extra radiant. Freddie could barely hold the camera straight she was so breathtaking. "There's no chance unless you take one, every time just see – " Just then, she noticed Freddie was filming and instantly tried to smack the camera away, catching a brief shot of Clara and Mary fast asleep in their baby seats in the back of the car.<em>

"_Sam!" Freddie protested, "Don't ruin it! Keep going!"_

"_Dude, you know I look nubbish on camera," she argued._

"_No, you don't! You look beautiful!"_

"_You have to say that, you're married to me!"_

"_Untrue!" Freddie proclaimed, "You're married to me, and you never call me beautiful!" Sam rolled her eyes and grinned. "C'mon, give me some of that Puckett magic." Sam reached a red light and thus turned to Freddie and gave the camera an extremely goofy face. Freddie chuckled. "You're a freak."_

"_You love me."_

"_I do."_

"_Oh, and I guess you're beautiful, too."_

_Freddie groaned. "Handsome would do just fine."_

_Sam shook her head, laughing, as she continued to drive. "Oh, Fredducini, since when have I ever settled for 'just fine'?"_

* * *

><p>"<em>Hi, I'm Carly!" Carly jumped into Freddie's shot, beside the twins in matching highchairs. <em>

"_And I'm Sam!" Sam exclaimed, jumping in as well. "And this is…"_

"_iBabies!" they shouted in unison, each grabbing one of the girls' tiny hands and making overly exaggerated cooing sounds. Both babies giggled loudly._

* * *

><p>"<em>I don't know why I would ever love an immature, lazy, obnoxious psychopath like you!" Freddie shouted angrily in Sam's face. Neither of them realized Freddie had left his camera on in the corner of the room. Mary and Clara cried in the background.<em>

"_And I don't know why I'd ever love a nit-picky, nagging, boring idiot like you!" Sam shot back, angrier._

"_Well, hey, if you feel that way, why don't you just leave?" Freddie exclaimed harshly._

"_Maybe I will!"_

"_Fine!" Freddie stomped over and made a show of opening the door, "There's the door!"_

"_Fine!" Sam screamed, storming past him and out of the house, slamming the door behind her._

"_Whatever!" Freddie screeched._

"_Whatever!" Sam echoed from behind the door._

"_I'm not gonna miss you!"_

"_I'm not gonna miss you __**more**__!"_

"_Good!"_

"_Good!"_

_Freddie took a deep breath and stared at the door, unsure what to do next._

_Except he didn't even have to figure it out because moments later, Sam burst though the door and threw her arms around her dork._

"_I love you," she mumbled into his shirt, desperate to hold him closer._

"_I love you more."_

* * *

><p><em>3 AM greeted the all too familiar noise of two screaming babies.<em>

"_Your turn," Freddie mumbled from his side of the bed._

"_No way, nub," Sam responded sleepily, "It's__** your**__ turn."_

"_Is not."_

"_Is, too."_

"_Get up or I'll start filming you," Freddie teased, knowing his camera was right on his bedside table._

"_Don't you dare, Freddie Benson," Sam growled, seemingly wide awake now. Knowing it was an empty threat, Freddie grabbed his camera and hit the 'record' button. The girls wailed on._

"_It's 3 AM, and it's time for another episode of… Wake Up, Sam!"_

"_Idiot," Sam muttered, trying to get back to sleep._

"_See, Sam's supposed to be rocking those two lovely ladies – " He swerved the camera over to Mary and Clara's cradles, "However, she's being extremely lazy, as usual, so we're just going to wait until she gets tired of being filmed and – " Sam smacked the camera out of Freddie's hands and rolled out of bed, grumbling to herself._

* * *

><p>"<em>So here I am, walkin' into our house," Freddie narrated, taking a random video as he arrived home from the grocery store. As he entered, he caught a shot of Sam sitting on the couch, abnormally still. "Sam? You… you alright?"<em>

"_Put the camera down, Benson," Sam snapped, not looking at him. Freddie quickly did what he was told, placing the camera down on the table, and took a seat next to her, knowing it was time to be serious._

"_Talk to me," Freddie said, almost pleadingly, "Tell me what's wrong." She didn't answer, which just made Freddie more worried and desperate. "Sam? Answer me. You're freaking me out." He waited, again._

"_My mom is dead," Sam stated, seemingly emotionless._

"_What?" Freddie exclaimed, astounded._

"_Alcohol poisoning," He watched with horror as Sam shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal. "She was with her latest boy toy. He just left her out on the sidewalk in Manhatten. Then she died."_

_Freddie sincerely didn't know what to say. He knew Sam and her mom weren't that close, at least not publicly close. Anything she ever said about her mom was condescending or negative. Still though, she __**was**__ her mom. "I-I'm so sorry…"_

_Sam sent a piercing glare his way. "Do you think I __**care**__ if you're __**sorry**__?" Freddie shook his head. They'd been fighting a lot recently, much more than usual, and he just knew this was only going to further fuel Sam's temper._

"_Hey," he said softly, not willing to pick a fight over this. Sam looked away, crossing her arms. Freddie tentatively placed his own arm around hers. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."_

"_Tomorrow," she said, disregarding his statement, "We have to fly up to her apartment in LA and remove all her stuff."_

_Freddie frowned, squeezing her shoulder. "Are you sure you're ready to do that, Sam?"_

_Sam rolled her eyes, every bit of playful nature dormant. "Life doesn't wait for you to be ready, whizpants. It does whatever it wants, whenever it wants, ready or not."_

* * *

><p><em>When Sam had packed her suitcase the previous night, she knew exactly what her intentions were.<em>

_This wasn't a game. This wasn't another silly, meaningless argument to remind herself how much Freddie loved her. This most certainly wasn't something she was ever going to change her mind about._

_That same night she lay wide awake, watching Freddie breathe in and out peacefully. She couldn't help but think with a bitter pang in her insides how at one point or another, her mom had had a Freddie, maybe even several Freddies, and they'd left her all the same._

_That was her mother's problem, Sam reasoned. That was why she died. Because she just trusted so easily. Maybe Pam Puckett thought she was tough, invincible, but when it came down to it, she was as weak and afraid as a little kitten at least ninety percent of the time because when men weren't seducing her, they were either hurting her or leaving her, or both. Usually both. And this time, it had gotten her killed._

_Well, Sam didn't want to be that. She wanted to be brave. Sure, maybe it would hurt to live without Freddie, but it would be better than eventually watching the nub go on his own accord, than begging, (begging, __**begging**__) him to stay._

"_I'm sorry… what?" Freddie stammered, hoping he had heard Sam wrong. Sam studied his concerned, desperate face and fought the violent urge to lose herself in his arms. The words had come out. There was no turning back now._

"_I said," Sam repeated, trying to the best of her ability to keep her voice steady, "We're. Done." Freddie could only stare, his wise, chocolate-brown eyes shining in child-like confusion. "I'm not selling this apartment." She gestured to her mother's apartment, where they had both flown to in order to pack up Pam's possessions. At least, that was what Freddie believed, up until now. "I'm gonna live here, and you're going to fly back to Boston and stay there." The only sound that could be heard after that statement was Mary's mindless babbling._

"_But…" Freddie tried to remain the rational one. He could still fix this. He __**had**__ to fix this. "Why?"_

"_Because I can't do this anymore!" Sam snapped. "Look at us. We pay more attention to our stupid fights than we do our kids." She knew this wasn't true, but Freddie got the message, and that was what was important._

"_It's our thing," Freddie rebutted, "It's just how we work. And it does work, Sam, just… let's just sit and talk for a second – "_

"_Maybe it works for you, but what about __**m**__e?" Sam continued, her lies gaining momentum. "What about __**my**__ dreams? I've been trying to open that cake shop since we graduated, but no, we just had to keep moving because __**you**__ couldn't keep a stable teaching job." Her words slapped Freddie right across the face. He lost his cool._

"_You said you were okay with moving!" he shouted angrily. She had been totally fine with moving. "I asked you like, nine hundred times!" He had asked her like, nine hundred times._

"_Well I lied!" Sam lied._

"_I would've known if you were lying!" Freddie insisted. "There's something else. Tell me the real reason for this outburst."_

"_It's not an outburst!" Sam yelled, throwing her hands up in exasperation, "This is real life, Freddie. My existence has been reduced to changing diapers, sleepless nights, and waiting for you to come home, and it's not okay with me anymore."_

_Freddie's mouth dropped open in shock. It literally slaughtered Sam to see him looking at her like that. "You really think that's all this – " He gestured between them, "Is about? That that's all we are?"_

"_And he sees the light!" Sam exclaimed, with a roll of her eyes._

"_That's ridiculous!" Freddie defended their relationship, "That's so ridiculous and you know it!"_

"_Out," she growled, pointing at the door, "Get out. Ship the rest of my stuff over here if you want. I don't care."_

_Freddie made a show of planting his feet on the ground and crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving you."_

"_It's not up to you!" Sam said, furious, "Now grab your suitcase and get outta here before I resort to violence!" Mary and Clara, sensing the anger in the air, started whining in their portable baby carriers._

"_Beat me up then, see if I care," Freddie shrugged. The harmless abuse he received from living with her would always be better than the searing pain from living without her._

_ Letting her wrath take over, Sam grabbed a coffee mug off the kitchen counter and chucked it towards Freddie. He jumped to the side, and the mug smashed against the door. "Get - !" she screamed, throwing a plate, which he dodged by ducking. It, too, smashed. "Out!"_

_ "Sam, stop!" Freddie hollered, as she continued hurling relatively dangerous objects in his direction._

_ "Not until you leave!"_

_ "What about the girls?" Sam froze just as she was about to fling an orange. Of course she had given the girls careful thought, however now that she finally had to say it, out loud, she realized just how hard this was going to be._

_ "You take one, I'll take the other," she stated, her heart breaking, "They'll never have to know."_

_ "Do you have any idea how selfish you're being right now?" Freddie was absolutely fuming, more than ever before. Fuming enough to just leave, then and there._

_ So he did. _

_He grabbed Mary's baby carrier, and his still-packed suitcase, and headed for the door. He tried to tell himself this was just another meaningless fight, and in a few minutes she'd come back running, but somehow he knew this time was different._

_ "Bye!" Sam said coldly._

_ "Bye!" Freddie shot back, just as icily. "See you never!" He turned and walked out the door. The baby carrier was facing Sam, and she watched Mary's teary face until it disappeared around the corner._

_ "See you never." He didn't hear her voice crack at the end of that sentence._

_ "Da-da?" said Clara to her mom and the empty, messy apartment she would now be growing up in._

* * *

><p>The girls watched as the DVD took them through their parents' short-lived marriage; happy moments in the park, singing in the car, iCarly allusions, Clara saying her first word. Not-so-happy moments waking up in the middle of the night, fighting and storming out, death, and their relationship's ultimate end. It was like some sort of heart-warming romantic comedy cut painfully short. It wasn't supposed to end that way. It wasn't supposed to end at all.<p>

"How in cheese name does Grandma have these?" Clara wondered, as what appeared to be a security camera showed Freddie storming out of her childhood home with the baby version of Mary in tow.

"Beats me," Mary shrugged, "But anyway, can you believe this? Finally we've got some answers to our burning questions."

"We know that Mom more or less forced Dad out," Clara recounted, "Right after her mom died. It seems a little fishy to me…"

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Whaddaya mean?"

"I just think that maybe Mom had different reasons for breaking it off than she let on," Clara explained, "Which means… that maybe…"

"We can fix this chiz?" Mary finished, smiling.

Clara smiled in return. "Exactly. The thing is though, we do have one pretty major obstacle in our way…"

"Well you know what they say," Mary said, smirking, "Every Rose has its thorns."

"You've been just dying to make that joke, haven't you?"

"_So_ badly."

* * *

><p>Later that night, when Clara finally made her way back into Grandma Marissa's apartment, she found her grandmother to still be awake, reading The Eccentric Parents' Guide.<p>

"Grandma?" she asked tentatively, fiddling with the DVD in her hands. Marissa closed the book, gazing at her granddaughter.

"Yes, Mary?" she responded, with a subtle wink.

"How did you get all these videos?" Clara inquired, holding up the DVd in confusion.

Marissa looked rather thoughtful before answering as such: "I found it at your Boston home a few years ago. Freddie keeps everything for his home movies, dear. The good, the bad, _and _the heartbreak. They wouldn't be real otherwise."

**A/N: So not every bit of those flashbacks were on the physical DVD, but hopefully you guys got that. The DVD was snippets. Oh, and in case you were confused, Freddie had somehow retrieved security footage from a security camera in the hallway from when he had left. A little bit of a stretch, but Freddie pretty brilliant. I see the making of this DVD as sort of his way to cope, the best he could.**

**I hope you guys liked this one! I worked pretty hard on it… it was a very important chapter to the story, as you the readers were finally given some background on what happened to Sam and Freddie.**

**Next chapter will be… the reunion! Eek! Haha**

**Meanwhile, who can identify which TWO pieces of dialogue were actually in _The Parent Trap_?**

**-Colors**


	13. Trapter 13

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 13

Clara emerged from the double doors that her father was holding open for her of an unfamiliar school, Rose close behind. They had arrived perfectly on time, one o'clock on the dot.

"Welcome to Ridgeway High!" he told them with a bright smile.

"Oh, it's just wonderful, Fredward!" Rose reacted, taking in the scene like it was some sort of famous monument. She took his hand in hers and they headed for the sign-in table, located, Freddie noticed, right where his two best friends' lockers used to be. The locker next to a certain blonde's locker still had noticeable dents from when she had beaten it with a hammer in eighth grade.

Clara lagged behind and went instead for the water fountain, having been thirsty the whole car ride there. However, as soon as she pressed the large button, the water cascaded, to her surprised, down the hallway, creating the beginnings of a large pool of water right where students were supposed to be able to safely walk. Immediately Clara removed her hand from the fountain and giggled. _Just wonderful indeed._

Still, she couldn't help but admit that she could most definitely see her parents passionately bickering through these halls, years and years ago.

"Alright, Mary," Freddie and Rose appeared at her side. Freddie had a schedule in his hands. "There's an activity fair for the kids of the alums in… room 206, upstairs."

Clara gave her dad a terrified look, forgetting who she was supposed to be. "Wait, you're just going to leave me?"

"Oh, um… I'm sorry," Freddie apologized, surprised by Mary's attachment, "I can walk you there if you want."

Realizing her failure to play the role of Mary Benson, she countered, "Um, psh, nah! I can do this all by myself! I'm tough!" and hurried towards the stairs before her dad could question her relatively bipolar behavior.

Clara entered the stairway, climbing behind a chubby man and his son who were sneezing in unison every five seconds or so. It really slowed the process of getting to the second floor, but Clara didn't want to risk catching whatever creepy, simultaneous cold they both had by ducking past them.

Finally, Clara, Sneeze 1 and Sneeze 2 made it to the second floor.

"Dad – _sneeze_ - , where's –_sneeze_ – room two-oh-_sneeze_-six?" Little Sneeze said.

"Right there – _sneeze_-," Big Sneeze told him, pointing at a door down the hall. He patted his son on the shoulder. "Have a fun _– sneeze_ – time, Jeremy, Jr.! – _sneeze _– "

"Thanks, dad!" he said, his nose stuffed up, "_Sneeze_." Clara followed Jeremy, Jr. into room 206.

The supposed "activity fair" consisted of a bubbles station, a coloring station, a food station where it appeared the majority of the kids were spending their time, and a station where a bald, angry-looking old man with an out-of-place red clown nose on was trying and failing to make balloon animals.

"Hey!" a small girl at the bubbles station whined, "This isn't bubble soap! It's flat soda!"

"Simmer down!" the bald man snapped. He name tag said 'Mr. Howard.' Soon enough, he laid his eyes on Clara and froze, mid-failed-doggy-balloon.

"A mini-Puckett," he huffed, rolling his eyes in displeasure. "Oh, happy day!"

Clara ignored him, quite used to most people disapproving of her mom. It never once bothered her and it never would because those who really loved and understood her mom knew better.

The faux-blonde stood awkwardly and scanned around the room. _This is ridiculous_, she thought with a huff, _I need to be downstairs, where no doubt life-altering things are going to happen…_ Clara did a one-eighty and heads for the door, only to find someone had locked it.

"No children wandering the halls allowed!" Mr. Howard barked.

"But isn't this a school?" Clara asked, perplexed at the rule.

"Oh, gee, someone put sass in their oatmeal this morning," Mr. Howard retorted, "Anyway, you have to stay here until a parent and/or guardian comes to pick you up." He smirked, satisfied with his pathetic power.

With a sigh, Clara snatched a bag of chips from the food table and sat down in front of a desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar face sitting at the desk beside her.

"Gina!" she exclaimed, excited to see her friend from Sparkle Lake. Gina took one look at Clara and yelped. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, h-h-hey…" she stuttered, looking nervous for some reason, "My dad Gibby Gibson went to school here…"

"You're Gibby's dad?" Clara clarified, surprised, as Gina could have been a model she was so tall and gorgeous, a sharp contrast to the chubby boy Clara had seen while watching iCarly back at camp.

After a few beats, Gina shielded herself and spoke again. "Mary, y-you're not going to hurt me, are you?" Clara then remembered that she looked like Mary.

"No, no! Gina, it's me, Clara," Clara insisted eagerly, then lowered her voice to an excited whisper, "Mary and I switched placed after camp."

Gina gasped. "No way!"

"We're twins!"

Gina gasped again. "No _way_!"

"Our parents separated us at birth and we're plotting to get our family back together."

Another gasp. "_NO WAY_!"

"Ssh, ssh," Clara warned her, eying Mr. Howard and his red nose as he attempted to make a giraffe for a little boy. It was looking more like a baseball bat. "Rudolph might hear. Listen, I need to get downstairs. Will you help me?"

Gina smiled. "Does my dad spend half the day shirtless?"

* * *

><p>The moment Sam Puckett and company stepped in front of the sign-in table, an earsplitting, bloodcurdling scream resounded through the entire school, possibly even Seattle.<p>

"She's back!" Miss Briggs screeched in fear, fleeing the area, "Sam Puckett has returned! With a spawn! Run! Run for your miserable lives!" From random areas all around the halls, teachers and students alike began running and screaming.

Sam crossed her arms, a smirk on her face, as Carly rolled her eyes good-naturedly and Spencer and Mary high-fived. "I could get used to this."

"Man, and I thought _I_ was feared in high school," Gretchen added, impressed, "Hon, you're like a human apocalypse."

"Can we just get signed in, please?" Carly said to the table, with a laugh. Reluctantly, the one remaining teacher at the table who hadn't bolted away in panic checked off all their names.

"How come no one ran screaming when _I_ came in?" Spencer complained, "How dare they play least favorites!" With that, he marched into the cafeteria like a disgruntled child.

"The kids' activity fair is upstairs in room 206," the nervous teacher told Mary.

"Oh, I won't be going to that," Mary waved the comment away nonchalantly as the group moved away from the table. Her mom gave her a look.

"Oh yes you will!" she corrected sternly. Mary's face fell.

"Aw, come on!" she whined, "I've been waiting for you and dad to meet again for, like, thirteen years!"

"And your dad's probably been waiting to meet Clara Puckett again for the last thirteen years!" Sam retorted, fingering Mary's dyed brown hair, "And that's not you. As funny as it would be, I don't think we should give him an attack for no reason."

"You've attacked him for no reason since the sixth grade," Carly pointed out.

"I'm with your mom on this one," said Gretchen, "Whatever goes down, for now, should be between her and Mr. Grown-Up-Tech-Boy."

"Go!" Sam ordered, pushing her daughter lightly towards the stairs.

"Fine!" she agreed harshly as she stomped away, her fists clenched. Sam smiled.

"That's my girl!" she called to her.

"You're lucky I love you, Mom!"

Sam took a moment to glare at Gretchen. "Gretch, _nothing _is going to 'go down.'"

"Oh, please," she rolls her eyes, "I watched iCarly all those years ago. When it comes to you and Freddie, something always goes down."

At that moment, Carly's phone beeped, and she pulled it out of her purse. "It's a text from Ben," she announced, opening it. Her face fell.

"What? What's up?" Sam asked, concerned.

"It's nothing," Carly smiled sadly, putting her phone away, "Just… Ben can't come. There's an emergency at work. It's nothing."

Sam put a hand on her best friend's shoulder. "You sure?"

"Of course."

"Carly…"

"No, really," Carly puts on a brave face, "Let's go in."

* * *

><p>"Ready?"<p>

"Ready." Gina grinned at her friend, "Mary has really rubbed off on you, you know that?"

"Maybe so," Clara replied, glancing every couple of seconds at Mr. Howard, who had given up on making balloon animals and was now constructing a house of cards at the desk up front. All the food had been cleaned out within the last few minutes, and kids all around the room were suffering from boredom. "Okay, in five…"

"Four…"

"Three…"

"Two…"

"Now!" Gina sprinted and crashed straight into the desk, knocking the house of cards to oblivion.

"You fool!" Mr. Howard roared, and Clara could just see the steam rushing from his ear reds, "Fix it this instant!"

"Not a chance, underpants!" Gina cried out, running away. Mr. Howard tried to chase after her, only to slip and glide across the room from a premeditated liquid soap trap, courtesy of Gibby's daughter. As a result of his fall, the keys to the room flew out of his hand and across the floor. Clara hurriedly grabbed them and made a break for the door. Mr. Howard saw what she was doing and tried to get up, screaming in outrage, but the floor was so slippery that he could barely move, much less stand.

Clara unlocked and opened the door, and cheers erupted from every corner of the failed activity fair. A slippery, sliding stampede of kids raced out the door behind Clara and Gina, many of them stepping over the angered old man in the process. Once outside, Clara shut the door and locked it, and she and Gina high-fived in victory.

"Okay, _what_ just happened?" said Mary, approaching Clara and Gina in the opposite direction of all the children running free.

"I'll explain later," Clara answered quickly, grabbing Mary's arm, "First, we've got to get downstairs and see what's happening with mom and dad!"

"Good luck, you guys!" shouted Gina, as the twins sprinted down the stairs. "Hold on." She frowned. "Why am _I _staying up here?" She ran after them. "Hey, wait up! I like drama, too!"

* * *

><p><em>It was not as Freddie had anticipated it to be.<em>

_ Prom, that is._

_ It was disappointing, almost downright depressing, how different this so-called night to remember was from how it had played out idealistically in his mind since practically the fifth grade._

_ The most aggravating part was that he wasn't even sure why. Caitlin was sweet, pretty, and much to his shock, had a huge thing for him. She was actually able to pin on his boutonnière, (unlike both Carly and Sam who had given up the annoying task after about twenty seconds, leaving Mrs. Benson to complete Brad and Gibby's prom attire.) She held his hand almost the whole time. She merely laughed lightly and helped him clean up when he'd spilled their sodas on the way back to the table. She didn't care that he was a terrible dancer. Or a dork._

_ He looked great. She looked great. They looked great together. The gym looked great. Everything was just… so… great. So great._

_ So why didn't he feel great?_

_ "You're a great dancer," Caitlin lied, as she rested her head on Freddie's shoulder. Freddie wished everybody would stop using the word 'great.'_

_ "Thanks, so are you," he replied lamely, scanning the ceiling full of sparkly chandeliers._

_ "I'm glad you asked me," she continued, her voice sweet and innocent. Beyond his current view of Caitlin's ear, Freddie saw his blonde demon-of-a-best-friend sitting at a table, looking lonely but trying not to. He noticed her send him a brief but harsh glare._

_ "Thanks, so are you," he repeated, distracted._

_ "Huh? What're you talking about, silly?"_

_ "Um, Caitlin, I've got to… go check on someone," he stumbled over his words, as Sam sipped a Peppy Cola. "Here," he took Caitlin's arm and handed her to the chubby boy dancing by himself, blissfully unaware that his own date was on the sidelines, "Dance with Gibby!"_

_ Caitlin frowned. "Freddie – "_

_ "I'll be right back," Freddie assured her, before making his way through the crowd over to Sam._

_ She didn't notice him at first as he stood before her, his hands in his pockets, gazing at her. Either that or she pretended not to._

_ "Ahem," he cleared his throat. Her blue eyes locked with his own brown ones, before once again plummeting to the ground. They had been awkward around each other all of senior year, ever since the lock-in the year before, where she'd kissed him and tried to play it off as some sort of practical joke. Freddie knew better. _

_ "What do you want, Freddifer?" she mumbled._

_ "You look miserable," he stated, giving her one of his famous, subtle looks of genuine concern._

_ "Yeah? Well…" she crossed her arms, shooting him a death stare, "Prom isn't as glamorous for everyone as it is for you."_

_ Freddie dodged her well-worded attack and held out his hand. "Wanna dance?"_

_ Sam raised an eyebrow and bluntly responded, "What?"_

_ Freddie shrugged. "It's either me or the shirtless potato, Puckett. Your call."_

_ "But what about Little Miss Pantyhose?" Freddie rolled his eyes at the nickname before pointing towards the dance floor, where Gibby and Caitlin were dancing up a storm, laughing like crazy._

_ "Mr. Potato Head happens to be her favorite Toy Story character," Freddie joked. His hand was still outstretched, waiting to take hers. She stared at it, pondering the options, no doubt. "C'mon, Sam. One song. Then you can go right back to sending me blistering glares from across the room."_

_ Sam scoffed, and Freddie smiled, triumphant that he had caught her in the act._

_ "Fine." She took his hand, and for exactly three minutes and four seconds, Freddie and Sam had the perfect prom._

* * *

><p>The Ridgeway High School Reunion's theme was <em>Prom Throwback<em>, the gymnasium covered in head to toe with décor identical to that of Ridgeway's past proms. Chandeliers glittered from the ceilings, the lights were dimmed, and spread throughout the floor were about two dozen round tables covered with fancy red tablecloths. There was a dance floor, and a DJ that was playing songs that were popular back when the attendees were Ridgeway students.

In other words, Freddie felt like he was eighteen again.

"Freddie! Hey!"

He whirled around from his spot in the corner of the gym to face none other than –

"Oh hey, Brad," he greeted his old friend from AV club, as his heart rate died down. He'd been jumpy since he'd arrived. He had looked – really looked, everywhere – so he knew his best friends from his youth hadn't arrived yet. However, that fact did not soothe him from the nauseating, about-to-drive-off-a-cliff feeling in the pit of his stomach. "How's life?"

"I'm doing okay," he replied, smiling, "How's everything with you?"

"It's amazing!" Brad exclaimed, "Let me introduce you to my wife Godiva. Hey, sweetie, over here!"

"Coming!" a large, chipper brunette pranced over, slipping her arm into Brad's, "Hello! You must be Freddie." She reached out for a handshake with a cheeky grin. Freddie warily accepted.

"How long have you two been married?" he inquired, to be polite.

"Ten years in three weeks!" Godiva gushed, "And we've got a beautiful six year-old daughter, and obviously one more on the way." She stroked her belly affectionately.

"Congrats," Freddie said, trying to be cheerful. He'd run into both Principal Franklin's family and Gibby's family already, they'd both shared their own happy, go-lucky stories with him, and quite frankly, he was getting sort of sick of it. Which sort of made him really disappointed in himself, for not being happier for his friends.

"What about you, Freddie?" Brad asked, genuinely interested, "Any family?"

"I've, uh…" This was always Freddie's least favorite question. He was never sure of the appropriate way to answer it. _Oh, well I've got two daughters, but only one lives with me, the other lives with my ex-wife and doesn't know I exist!_ Clearly wasn't the way to go. On the other hand, he felt a painful emptiness in leaving baby Clara – who, unfathomably, was probably not a baby anymore - out of the picture. "Yeah, I've got twin daughters… Mary and Clara…they're thirteen."

"How lovely!" Godiva commented, Brad nodding in agreement. The fact that they were too nice to ask about what happened between him and Sam only made him feel worse about the whole thing, and exponentially more nervous about seeing her face in somewhere other than his dreams.

Somehow, it didn't cross his mind to mention that he was engaged, that his fiancé was in the bathroom powdering her nose. By the time he remembered this significant fact –

"Freddie, hide me!" Spencer flashed in and out of Freddie's line of vision and grabbed his shoulders to hide behind him clumsily.

"Um, I think this is our cue to leave," Brad laughed, "Nice catching up with you, Freddie!"

"Nice to meet you!" said Godiva. Brad took her hand and they fled the scene.

"Oh hey, Spence, nice to see you, too!" Freddie said sarcastically. "Why am I hiding you?"

"It's Jessica, my crazy mime ex-girlfriend!" he explained in a panic, thrusting Freddie back and forth to avoid being seen, "She's here and – ah!" Spencer lurched backwards, as if by some kind of invisible force. Freddie turned around to the sight of a scary-looking, female mime reeling Spencer in with an imaginary fishing pole. "_Freeeeddddiiieeee!_" Spencer howled dramatically, before being dragged away by whom Freddie could only assume was Jessica.

_Wait_, Freddie's entire thought process halted, his nerves racing, _If Spencer is here, that means…_

Slowly, he glanced over at the main entrance, only to do a double-take.

Sure enough, next to Carly, was Sam Puckett.

_Sam. Puckett. _Right there. _So_ close.

Despite everything they had been through, he couldn't help the huge, awestruck grin that spread across his face. She was just as he remembered her, if not _more_ drop-dead gorgeous.

As if propelled by some type of spell, Freddie raced forward, towards the main entrance, past the variety of classmates with happier lives. For some idiotic reason, he opted to wave as he approached her. She noticed him right away, and he tried to contain his laugh at her shell-shocked face.

Finally, he stood before her, panting like he had run a mile, grinning like an idiot.

The rest of the world vanished, but he was too transfixed to notice.

"Hey Sam."

He'd tried to sound as casual as possible, but the two words together were foreign candy on his tongue.

Sam opened her mouth, then closed it again, not unlike a fish out of water, gasping for breath. Gretchen nudged her in the side. Carly rolled her eyes and smiled. Sam and Freddie ignored them both.

"Hey."

Sam was satisfied with her response. She was used to cold by now. Any other way she wouldn't know what to do with herself.

"It's, uh," Freddie rubbed the back of his neck, overwhelmed, "It's good to see you." A silence that was not quite awkward but not quite comfortable either encompassed the group.

"_Sam_," Carly cut in, and for the first time, Freddie realized that other people were there, "Isn't there something you want to say in response to Freddie's friendly, civil statement?"

Sam made a face as if Carly had asked her to drink from a toilet. Freddie almost laughed. _Same old Sam_. Sam sighed, exasperated, and stared Freddie straight in the eyes.

"Good to see you, too."

Freddie nodded. He'd take what he could get.

"Hi, Freddie," said Carly, smiling, "Remember me?"

Realizing what he was supposed to do, Freddie fell out of his trance immediately. "Carly!" he said happily, pulling her into a quick hug, then pulling away, "Are the twins here? Ben?"

"No, Emily's home babysitting Mike and Stephen. Ben's on call."

"Aw, man. I love those guys."

"Listen, Freddie," Sam jumped in, interrupting the conversation. She wanted to bite the bullet. Immediately everyone stared at her, which made her the slightest bit uncomfortable. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh!" Freddie slapped his head in realization, "I almost forgot! Here, I brought it." He quickly pulled out a big, white envelope from his jacket and handed it to Sam. Part of him had wanted her to forget. "Yours is coming in the mail," This was directed at Carly. "But Sam, I made sure to remember to give you yours in person…"

Meanwhile, the twins plus Gina peeked out from under a nearby table.

Extremely confused, Sam peeled the enveloped open and lifted out its contents.

_You are cordially invited to the marital union of Fredward Benson and Rose Gardens!_

Sam read it over, and over, and over again, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Her head fell. Her hands shook, so violently that the invitation fell right out of her hands and onto the floor. _I should've known._

Freddie immediately sensed that something was not right. "S-Sam? Are you… what's…?"

Sam's head snapped up, to reveal the monstrous anger in her eyes. In one swift motion, she kicked him in the stomach, stomped on the invitation, and bolted for the door. Freddie fell to the ground, doubled over in pain.

Gretchen sighed, placing a hand on her hip. "So much for civil and friendly,"

**A/N: If you were confused by Sam's reaction or Freddie's obliviousness, please review trapter 10.**

**Well, that certainly went well, huh? At least everyone is still breathing!**

**Hoped you guys enjoyed this one and that it lived up to your expectations. I know a lot of you were anticipating the reunion chapter. Well, guess what? It's going to be spread out amount SEVERAL chapters! Haha.**

**Last chapter, the two DIALOGUES (not scenes, guys, words spoken!) were "I've loved you your whole life" and "It all just sort of spilled out."**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I love you guys!**

**-Colors**


	14. Trapter 14

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 14

Clara, Mary and Gina watched the scene unfold from under a nearby table, their mouths agape, completely transfixed.

"Freddie!" Carly cried, immediately kneeling to her friend's aid as Gretchen looked on in shock. Sam could really throw a kick. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, just _dandy_," he grunted, his teeth clenched and his eyes shut tight from the searing pain.

"Here, let me help you up…"

"No, just let me die here," he begged, clutching his stomach, "I've already lost my dignity and probably my ability to digest food, what's my life, too?"

"What are you, a disgruntled toddler?" Gretchen remarked, rolling her eyes.

Freddie stopped writhing in pain for a moment. "Uh, do I know you?"

"Nope, hun," she shook her head, "But I sure know you." Carly carefully helped Freddie to his feet. He brushed invisible dirt off his suit, displeased.

Carly glanced at Gretchen and spoke both their thoughts aloud. "One of us should probably go – "

"I'll do it," Gretchen insisted, smiling lopsidedly, "You handle the Master of Killer Timing over here."

"I don't even know you!" Freddie snapped. Gretchen shrugged and ran off after Sam. Carly sighed and turned to Freddie.

"Why did you give Sam a personal invitation to your wedding?" she exclaimed, whacking him in the shoulder. He cringed. "Are you off your rocker?"

"She asked me to!"

"What? There's no way Sam would – " From behind him, two small hands tapped Freddie on the shoulder. He whirled around to face Mary, along with another girl who looked a lot like Mary.

Exactly like Mary. Different hair, plus glasses, but there was no denying it.

"Hi Dad," said Clara, with a little wave, "So… I'm actually Clara, this is actually Mary. I think we can explain."

* * *

><p>"What can I get for you?"<p>

"Ugh, anything," Sam replied, her head down.

She sat alone on a stool of a small outside bar the Ridgeway staff had set up out front. Her head was pounding, her hands still furiously shaking. She didn't know whether to shout at random people or to break down crying… and for _what_? Because of _who_?

Fredward Benson. A soon-to-be _married_ Fredward Benson.

Sam couldn't help but think oh, so bitterly to herself how this was exactly why she'd ended it in the first place. Nobody else in the history of forever had made her… _feel_ so much. And not just the good, fluffy, ignorant-of-reality stuff, oh no. Most of the time it was the nitty-gritty, awful, fuming, frustrating, terrifying stuff he pulled through the cracks of her otherwise thick, withstanding walls. And it really, _really_ ticked her off.

After all, who did he think he was, blatantly rubbing his better-off-without-her life in her face like that! It was almost _too_ rude to be the Freddie she had grown up with, the Freddie she had planned on growing old and wrinkly with.

_But it's all in the past_, she reasoned with herself, _That Freddie left when you kicked him out, and he's not coming back. Accept it. Accept it, self! You don't need him. You don't need anyone._ Sam let out another irritated groan. The bartender – a female - gave her a weird look before placing a drink in front of her head. Sam didn't even bother. She knew deep down she didn't actually want just _anything_.

What she did want, well, that was a mystery in itself. One, she felt, she was all too brave to waste her time with.

"Rough night?" asked the bartender.

Sam slowly lifted her head. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Uh, sure?"

"If you ever come across a _dork_," Sam continued, an annoying twinge of pain arising from the word, "And you feel an overwhelming compulsion to tease the living daylights out of him, run. Just run. Get out while you still can."

"Excuse me," an airy, intruding voice spoke from behind her, "Are… are you, perchance, Samantha Puckett?" Sam whirled around to face an extravagant blonde caked in makeup.

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" Sam confirmed, not in the mood to deal with people. At that moment, the woman let out an earsplitting squeal of delight. Sam covered her poor ears.

"Oh, this is wonderful, just wonderful!" she cried, grabbing Sam's arm and shaking it, "Really, I'm just over-the-moon that I've actually found you! I am Rose. I recognized you from the TV commercials! I am such a huge fan of your cute, little pastry shop in LA, I can't even! I have your products shipped to me all the time." Sam briefly wondered if this woman came with an off button.

"Thanks," she tried to muster up a smile.

"I desperately wanted to visit or call you in hopes that you would cater my upcoming wedding, but my fiancé insisted your shop was just too busy!" she sped on, "I was merely on my way back from the powder room, looking for the cafeteria, when I saw you from a window, and here we are! It's like fate!"

"That's a great offer," Sam attempted to decline, "But I – "

"Good, so you'll do it!" Rose cheered with glee, "Wonderful! I'll have my people call your people, okay? Great!"

"But – " Rose hopped away before Sam could get another word in. She sighed. _Just what I need. More wedding fun._

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, drinking in the silence.

Whatever this was that she was feeling, Sam knew she had to build a bridge and get over it. She had no choice but to speak to him, at least from a professional stance, if she had any prayer of getting her family situation back in order. She made a mental note to kick herself for bringing not one, but two ridiculously mischievous girls into the world. Maybe all those people had been right, back when she was much like those girls. Maybe one Sam Puckett was more than enough.

"There you are!" Sam heard Gretchen from afar, as she exited Ridgeway High and walked towards her, "Man, hiding in plain sight, I should've guessed that! I've been checking random closets and under desks."

"Not in the mood, Gretch," Sam called back distractedly.

"And that would be exactly why I'm comin' out here," Gretchen explained, sauntering over to sit down right next to her distraught boss. She stole Sam's drink and took a sip, waiting.

"Freddie's getting married," Sam stated, overlooking the streets of Seattle in her field of vision.

Gretchen frowned. "Hey…look on the bright side. After that kick he probably won't even make it to the alter."

"I didn't kick him _that_ hard," Sam defended herself, before slumping, "Though I definitely should have."

Gretchen sighed deeply. "Sam, as I was leaving to go find you I overheard Freddie tell Carly that you _told_ him you wanted a personal invitation."

"What? I never said that!" Sam argued in disbelief, "I didn't even know the nub was hitched!"

"What I'm trying to say," Gretchen went on, "Is that I don't think the guy's intentions were malicious. I know a stinkin' liar when I see one, and it really, truly looked like he had no idea what he had done wrong."

"Well if he thinks I'm in any mood to watch some other unlucky sap marry him, he's got another thing coming!" insisted Sam, pounding the table for emphasis. "I wouldn't go to that moron's wedding if he and his daffodil wife paid me!"

"Just pull Freddie aside and talk to him," suggested Gretchen simply. "It wouldn't kill you to be civil. Now that the girls have reunited, you know this isn't just going to go away, right?"

"Fine," Sam said sharply, hopping off the seat to follow Gretchen inside, "But I'm getting some food first. Mama needs her fuel."

* * *

><p>"S-so, let me get this straight," Freddie said slowly, shock seeping into his veins. He was seated at an empty table, overwhelmed beyond belief at seeing his two girls standing side by side. Carly had excused herself, claiming she knew the whole story already, which really annoyed him. She had known the whole time and hadn't even bothered telling him? He shakily pointed to Mary, who still looked like Clara. "Mary, you've been in LA acting as Clara this whole time?"<p>

"Yup!" she replied happily.

He moved his finger towards Clara, who still looked like Mary. "And… you're Clara? You've been with me all along?"

"Yes," she answered shyly.

"I…" he gulped, his emotions cancelling out any logic, "I don't know what to say. I can't believe it's really you!" Clara beamed, and both girls jumped in to hug him. After a few moments, he pulled away, realizing something. "Does your mom know?"

"Yeah, I dropped the bomb a few days ago," Mary admitted, "Oh, and by the way…" She looked guilty. "Jen Polish doesn't exist. I was the one who picked up the phone. I was the one who told you Mom wanted the wedding invitation."

Freddie's mouth dropped open. "Mary! Are you kidding me? Why would you do that? Your mom just rearranged my stomach!"

"Sorry, sorry!" she said grudgingly, "I thought that if you thought she was alright with the wedding and stuff you'd feel better about seeing her."

Truthfully, Freddie was, in some twisted way, glad that the wedding made Sam angry. Why, he couldn't bring himself to contemplate, but somehow the idea of Sam not wanting him to get married was comforting. Familiar.

"We just wanted you and mom to meet again," Clara added.

"And why's that?" Freddie wanted to know. Mary and Clara looked at each other, speaking without words. Realization hit him. "Oh, no, no, don't even try it, ladies! I'm marrying Rose, and that's that. I… really love her, yeah, and there's nothing - "

At that moment, Gretchen and Sam piled through the door. The moment Freddie spotted the blonde being dragged toward him, corn dog in hand, he completely lost his train of thought. He stood up, pushed in his chair, and headed straight towards her.

"We'll see," said Mary, with a smirk. She and Clara fist-pounded.

* * *

><p>"Sam," prodded Gretchen, pushing her forward, "Isn't there something you'd like to say to Freddie?" Sam glared, and then slowly flicked her eyes towards his.<p>

"Sorry I kicked you to the ground," she deadpanned.

Freddie smiled. "No harm done." Sam raised an eyebrow. Freddie laughed. "Ah, you know what I mean."

"'Course I do."

Gretchen, sensing the tension being lifted, backed away and fled the scene, immediately crashing into Spencer, who was lying on the floor with his arms flat at his sides, while people around him stared.

"Spencer, what's going on?" she asked, looking at him.

"Jessica wasn't too pleased that I wouldn't give her a second chance," he explained warily, "So she tied me to an imaginary railroad track."

"Oh, come on, hon, I'll help you up," she chuckled, reaching down for his hand. She pulled Spencer to his feet.

Spencer beamed. "Thanks. Hey, what's your name again?"

"That'd be Gretchen," she responded, her sarcastic smirk melting into a genuine smile.

"Gretchen," Spencer said, nodding happily, "Want to peruse the food table with me?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Meanwhile, Sam gazed at Freddie, wondering what to do or say next. Both of their stares turned slowly to the twins sitting a few feet away at a table. Mary waved enthusiastically. Clara tried to stop her from doing so.

"We need to talk about some things," Freddie finally spoke, tentative in a way that made everything inside Sam soften.

"We do," Sam agreed curtly. But she didn't want to talk here, in front of all their old peers.

"We could go to the courtyard?" Freddie suggested, nervous she would say no, that she would take off running again. He held his stomach, just to be safe.

Sam surprised him by saying, "Okay, whatever." She threw her finished corn dog into a nearby trash can, and off they went.

* * *

><p>Carly, Gibby and Gibby's supermodel of a wife Trisha were by the food table, catching up.<p>

"So is it true?" Gibby inquired to Carly.

"Is what true?" Carly wondered.

"That Freddie won the lottery!" Gibby answered excitedly. "I saw it on the news, but when I asked him about it he just changed the subject."

To say Carly was surprised would be an understatement. After all, Freddie hadn't mentioned anything about a lottery. But a moment later, it made perfect sense. _So that's why Rose was so interested in marrying him all of a sudden_. Her signature and fierce protectiveness of those she held close to her heart kicked in.

And that was when the wheels began to turn in Carly's mind.

The fact of the matter was, though Carly had always tried to get Freddie to see other people, in truth she strongly felt that her best friends were meant for each other. She thought by dating other people, Freddie wouldn't feel as lonely. She never expected him to go and marry someone he barely knew!

Then again, it was so like him. Freddie usually fell first, then analyzed later. That was what had happened with her, with Valerie, with every other girl. But Sam, he had gotten to know before he fell for her, and that was the major difference. That was why it had worked.

Carly saw the way Freddie looked at Sam. She had known all along. Freddie was in no way over Sam, Rose or not. And Sam was in no way over Freddie, pride or not.

If Freddie could just see that Rose was using him, all would be well. But how?

Carly had heard through Mary about Clara's failed attempts to get Mrs. Benson involved in the matter. That woman was so batty and useless. No, she needed some other outlet. She needed to show Rose that she was not going to get what she wanted…

"That's strange," Carly answered Gibby, an idea finally clicking into place, "Hey Gibby, listen, I've got a favor to ask of you…"

* * *

><p>As soon as Freddie and Sam left the premises, Mary and Clara screeched happily in unison.<p>

"They're gonna talk!" Mary cheered, hugging her twin.

"Voluntarily!" Clara chirped in, returning the hug.

"This is abso-bacon-lutely awesome!"

"I concur!" They both laughed and pulled apart. "They're probably going to converse about us though."

Mary shrugged. "Eh, it's progress, you know? And hey, one topic could lead to another…" Out of the corner of her eye, Mary spotted Rose glancing around, confused, probably in search of her fiancé. Noticing he was not there, she did a one-eighty and headed in the same direction Sam and Freddie had. "Chiz!"

"What?" Clara asked, panicked.

"It's Rose!" Mary explained, grabbing Clara's arm and pointing, "She's going to interrupt mom and dad! We need to stop her!"

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Clara cried out, being to hyperventilate, "She's going to go find them and then mom is going to freak out and run again and then everything we've worked for will be for – "

"Will you shut up?" Mary snapped, "I have a plan. Grab some food, now!"

"Why me?"

"Because Rose has no idea that 'Clara' exists!" Mary shoved a plateful of food off the table into Clara's shaking hands. "Do what our family does best and start a scene!" Knowing she had little time to spare, Clara stood up and ran straight for Rose.

"Mary," Rose stated, pausing in her tracks, "Why, what are you - ?"

"Food fight!" Clara screamed at the top of her lungs, hurling the plate's entire contents straight at Rose. A tuna sandwich, mashed potatoes, gravy and peeled carrots smashed at her heavily made-up face before she could scream. Of course, she screamed afterwards.

"You…you disgusting little brat!" she hollered, trying to get the food out of her hair, "How dare you!"

"Here, let me help you to the bathroom!" the real Mary came up from behind her. Rose was so smothered in food that she could barely see anything, much less that there were now two girls by her side.

"I think it is the least you could do!" she snipped snobbishly. Clara followed Mary, a nervous expression on her face, as Mary led Rose out of the cafeteria by her arm and went in the opposite direction of the bathroom. "While you're at it, please have the help fetch different soap, all they've got right now is that cheap, foam kind!"

"But of course," Mary assured, a devious smirk on her face. "Oh, here we are, the bathroom!"

"Finally!" Clara couldn't help but snicker. The three of them faced a supply closet. Mary motioned for Clara to open the door. Mary reached in and took out a mop before shoving Rose in a slamming the door shut and sliding the mop through the door handle in to secure it. "Oh my, why is it so dark in here? Mary Sunshine, are you sure this is the bathroom? Could you turn on the lights?" Silence. "_Mary?_ Are you there?"

"And that's how the Benson twins get 'er done!" Mary whispered triumphantly. The two of them fist-pounded and tiptoed away.

* * *

><p>Lots of things had changed about Ridgeway High since the bickering duo had graduated all those years ago, but the courtyard was exactly as they had left it.<p>

It dawned on Freddie the sad, almost humorous fact that the last time he was here with Sam could now be classified as _simple_, compared to everything else they had been through – cereal box proposals, messy divorces, place-trading twins, the list went on and on.

This was where they'd shared their second kiss. This was where Freddie had realized Sam loved him. This was where Freddie had realized he felt the same way.

"I think Mary and Clara inherited your delinquency," Freddie joked, breaking the anticipating but surprisingly comfortable silence and they stood under the mid-afternoon sun.

"And your larger-than-life brain," Sam shot back. Freddie grinned sheepishly and shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. For some reason, just being here with her, sans violence, made him ecstatic.

"So… how've you been, Puckett?" he asked, the grin not leaving his face, "Still beating up wrestlers and eating twice your weight in meat?"

Sam had to admit, she felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. Maybe because it was so familiar that it was, well, too familiar. It brought her back to junior year of high school and she also had to admit she felt a bit like she had back then… like she had to hide. For her own good. "On occasion," she responded, trying to stay cold despite the fact that she was warming up to him again with every second, because that was what he did. He had always melted her shell away, often, against her will. "Mostly I've been running Mama's Bakery of Awesome."

"Oh yeah, you finally got it up and running," he remembered how Rose had been dying to go there, but of course, he had declined, for obvious reasons. "Congrats."

"What about you, Benson?" Sam pressed, realizing how little she knew about his life now, "Teaching, right? And getting married? Man."

"About that, Sam…" Freddie said hurriedly, not wanting to upset her again, "Mary – "

"Told you I wanted an invite?" The answer came to Sam in an instant. It made sense. Freddie nodded and gulped. "Look, it's fine. I only kicked you because I thought you were trying to brag. I think it's really awesome you're getting married."

"I'm really sorry, you don't have to – " Freddie paused. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I kicked you because I thought you were bragging?"

"No, no, the other thing."

"Oh, yeah. It's… just awesome. That you're getting married, I mean. So awesome." _Liar_, she thought to herself. She tried to reason that the truth would hurt her more.

"You think so?" His heart sank. He hoped not.

"Mary deserves a mom." The words made Sam's cold, little heart ache in her chest. She meant them, anyway.

Freddie raised an eyebrow, the disappointment from her statement too powerful to hide. "_You're_ her mom, Sam."

"I know, but…but I'm not…" Sam's eyes drifted to the ground. Her cheeks were burning. This was ridiculous. How old was she? Certainly not the age she was acting.

"Around?" Freddie finished. Sam looked up again. How they were still able to finish each other's sentences like that was beyond either of them, yet nonetheless they both found it a nice comfort. "Well, I… um…" Freddie's mind raced around spastically. What did he want to say? That he wanted her around?

Did he _need_ her around?

What if he asked her why she _wasn't _around? He took a deep breath.

"Fredward, there you are!"

Rose ran into the courtyard, grabbing his arm, shaking Freddie out of his thoughts. He sniffed the air. Why did Rose smell like tuna fish? "Oh, you wouldn't believe it, I somehow got stuck in a closet! Luckily, a nice janitor heard me screaming and released me – oh! Hello again!" She noticed Sam standing there, puzzled and awkward. "I see you've met my future husband! Fredward, dear, Samantha has agreed to cater the wedding! Isn't that wonderful?"

"She… you are?" Freddie stammered, his eyes moving back and forth between the two extremely contrasting blondes.

"Oh, yes!" Rose nodded, then frowned, "Hold the phone… _how_ did you two meet when Samantha didn't even know who I was marrying… What's going on?"

"Uh, Rose," Freddie explained, the awkwardness in the air so heavy that he felt he couldn't breathe, "Sam Puckett and I, um, well, Sam is Mary's mom." Rose's eyes widened dramatically.

"_You_ were married to _him_?" Rose asked, astonished, pointing back and forth between them, "_He_ was married to _you_?"

"It was a moment of insanity," Sam shrugged. Freddie glared.

"You're the Sam Marissa was talking about!" Rose realized.

"Your mom still complains about me? Sam asked cheerfully. Freddie turned red. This did not go unnoticed by Rose.

"Well, well, isn't this wonderful," she exclaimed through clenched teeth, "Such a small world, isn't it? Wow. Wow, wow, wow."

Clara and Mary had just come up to the window to check on their parents and were surprised and annoyed to see Rose out there with them.

"Aw, man!" Mary moaned.

"How did she escape?" Clara wondered. They both burst through the courtyard door, desperate for answers.

"Hey there!" called Mary.

"How's everything going?" Clara asked.

Sam glared at her two daughters. "I hope both of you realized you're dead meat." They gulped. "How could you manipulate us like that?"

"Sorry," the girls chorused, staring at the ground.

Rose yelped in fear.

"There… there are _two_ of them?" Rose asked, terrified.

"Um… I never mentioned that Mary has a twin?" Freddie asked, playing innocent. Sam scoffed. _What a beautiful relationship._

"No, you most certainly didn't!" Rose gasped, before shaking her head, "You know, forget it. Just forget it. Fredward, there's something I've been dying to talk to you about."

Freddie, eager to change the subject, quickly said, "Okay, let's hear it."

"I was speaking with Lewbert earlier today," Rose began, smiling, "Such a wonderful man. Anyway, he told me that the Bushwell has a lovely, little chapel on the second floor, and I, why, I just had the craziest idea! Fredward," She stopped, taking his hand. "Why wait? Let's get married the day after tomorrow, right here in Seattle!"

**A/N: Oh, hurray, Rose wants to get married super early! That shouldn't cause any problems, now, should it?**

**I hope I did a good job at maintaining Sam and Freddie's, well, Sam-and-Freddieness, while also portraying them as older. It's harder than it sounds.**

**Anyway, just a little notice. I will be going on vacation August 13****th**** – August 20****th****. I will not be updating between those two dates. However, I hope to finish iDo It Over before iLMM premieres on the 12****th****. And hopefully I'll get another update in for this story before I leave.**

**Talk to you all soon!**

**-Colors **


	15. Trapter 15

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 15

The silence that followed Rose's question could have drowned a whole city.

"Th-the day after tomorrow?" Freddie stammered, staring at Rose's hand clutching his own, "As in, two days from today?"

"Yes, yes!" she exclaimed with a single bounce just enthusiastic enough to win an eye roll from Clara and Mary. Sam probably would have been rolling her eyes, too, if not for the unexpected, inexplicable twinge in her self-acclaimed cold, little heart. "What do you say?"

"I vote no," offered Mary, holding up her hand and breaking the awkward silence.

"Dad, that's _really _soon…" added Clara tentatively, "Maybe you should give this some thought."

"Oh, how silly," Rose giggled, "Everybody knows that if you love someone you don't have to think about marrying them…you just do it! Right, Fredward?" Everyone took this moment to turn to Freddie, anxious expressions on their faces.

"I…I…" he glanced back and forth between the ground and his wife-to-be, his mind flying in seven thousand different directions. As much as he wished it weren't so, spontaneity was never his thing. He liked organized, detailed plans and definite outcomes. _Married? Tomorrow?_

But what was he to do? If he said no, she'd naturally want to know why. His eyes flicked towards Sam, who shrugged, her face irritatingly unreadable, as always.

The problem was he couldn't face why.

"I guess that would be fine," Freddie heard himself say.

"_What?_" Mary and Clara cried in unison.

"Wonderful!" cheered Rose, planting a big, wet kiss on Freddie's cheek. Freddie smiled, barely registering what had just happened. He subtly glanced towards Sam, only to see the back of her head, marching further and further away. She flew through the entrance to the school, either accidentally or intentionally slamming the door behind her. "Oh, I'm just so excited, Fredward! Now, I'm thinking we could use a little chunk of that jackpot you've got yourself to get a real band, loads and loads of ice sculptures – hmm, do you think Samantha would cater for free, since she is so clearly…_responsible_, for part of this family?"

As Rose yammered on about insignificant wedding details, Clara turned to her twin and yanked her off to the side by the arm. "Mary… remember that egg roll I ate fifteen minutes ago?"

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Um…yes?"

"I think we're about to see it again." She held her stomach, breathing in and out. "I'm freaking out. I'm going to upchuck all over this courtyard. _This can't be happening_."

"Hey." Mary put a hand on her twin's shoulder, patting it soothingly, "Hey, just…calm down. Don't barf. We're…we're going to figure this out." Though in truth, Mary felt a little like giving up herself. The whole situation seemed pretty hopeless. The stars just weren't aligned for their parents, it seemed. And what could happen in a span of less than forty-eight hours?

"_How?_" Clara croaked, blinking back tears.

Still, Mary was not one to give up without an MMA-worthy fight. If there was anything she learned from being Freddie Benson's daughter, it was to never let anyone or anything hold her back. Hope meant everything.

"Well, for starters, I'm starved!" she said brightly. "Dude, let's go devour the rest of the refreshments!" Mary took the distraught Clara by the wrist and dragged her inside.

"But how - ?"

"Eat first, think later!"

* * *

><p><em>When will you be home?<em>

Carly sighed and pressed 'send.' If only she could send _herself_ to Ben just as easily.

Sometimes, usually never, but oh, sometimes, she wished she were selfish. Because then she could tell Ben how she wanted him there a lot more than he was and not feel any guilt for it at all. Unfortunately, she was cursed with caring about those she loved over her own desires, no matter what.

"Gibby's back and loaded!" shouted Gibby, approaching Carly with a cheerful disposition only he could muster up for no apparent reason. "Got the stuff you wanted, Carly!" He held up a grocery bag with pride. Tasha, who appeared at his side, admired her husband's bizarre victory.

"My Gibby is so helpful," she cooed.

"_Hurraythanks_," Carly said distractedly, grabbing the bag and pulling out a brand-new bottle of Instant Hair Dye Removal.

"What do you need that for, anyways?" asked Gibby.

"Are you secretly blonde?" Tasha added stupidly.

"It's not for me," Carly said, turning the bottle over and over in her hands. Her phone buzzed. Immediately she flipped it open to read Ben's response.

_Hopefully tomorrow night. Love you._

Carly's heart, dare she admit it, ached. She really missed him.

She glanced at the hair dye in her hands, deciding that if Sam felt anything like she felt, then she had to do something, and do it fast.

* * *

><p>"I don't believe you."<p>

"No, seriously, I can!"

"But it's not humanly possible!"

"Oh, but it's Spencerly possible!" Spencer grinned, dancing in anticipation for Gretchen to agree to his spontaneous declaration.

"So you're tellin' me," Gretchen clarified, placing a hand on her hip as she held the object in question in the other hand, "That you can hold an entire bowl's worth of punch in your mouth _and_ swallow it."

"Yes, yes, I said that!"

"If you choke I'm not held accountable."

"I know!"

"_Or_ if you develop bladder issues."

"My bladder will be fine!"

"_Or_ if you have to visit a therapist."

"Let me consume the punch!"

Gretchen stared Spencer down menacingly, though anyone could see the small smile tugging at her lips. "Spencer…"

"_Pleeeease?_" he begged. "I'll be your best friend!"

"Spencer, I don't think – "

"It's my destiny!"

"Fine!" she handed the bowl over, "Let's see then!"

"Yay!" he shouted childishly, before slurping the punch like nobody's business – straight from the bowl. Gretchen stood there in awed silence as the bowl's contents slowly drained away and Spencer's cheeks slowly widened.

"Oh, hon," she shook her head in disbelief once the now empty bowl fell to the ground, "That is not normal." Spencer bobbed his head up and down.

"_Jfgrhdfhd_," he said happily.

All of a sudden, Sam stormed towards them, looking completely ready to take out the next person to get in her way.

"Freddie's getting married to that bimbo in two days!" she announced coldly. Spencer was so startled by the news that the punch sprayed out of his mouth like some kind of crazy waterfall, all over both women. They both stepped back, their mouth dropped open in shock. Slowly, they looked up at Spencer, eyes wide. Awkward silence ensued.

"The statement surprised me," he said simply.

"Really?" Sam asked sarcastically. Gretchen broke into an award-winning smile and burst out giggling.

"You," she howled, leaning forward and shoving Spencer playing, "Are my favorite person ever! Ah! That was hilarious!"

"Seriously?" he asked giddily. "I thought you'd be so mad!"

"No, hon, I've always, always wanted to swim in punch!"

"Funny you should mention that, because last night I actually had a dream – "

"Guys!" Sam interrupted the banter impatiently, "Sorry to break up this weirdo-fest, but can you believe anyone would want to marry Freddie sooner? I mean, come on!"

"Do you ever stop for water?" Gretchen asked randomly.

Sam's face crinkled in confusion. "What?"

"You know, when you're running from your feelings."

"Boom!" commended Spencer, initiating a high-five with Gretchen, who smirked.

"I don't care if he's getting married," Sam tried to convince them. And herself. "I pity the woman."

"Then I guess you don't mind catering the event," Gretchen said knowingly.

"No, I – " Sam froze, "Wait, how'd you know about that?"

Gretchen held up her phone. "Rose _chirped_ about it."

"And I quote," Spencer took out his phone and read off of the screen, in a girly voice, "'O-M-G, my wedding is totally being catered by Sam's Bakery of Awesome! How wonderful! X-O-X-O…X.'"

"You guys are _following_ her on _Chirpster_?" Sam asked incredulously.

Gretchen shrugged. "Know thy enemy."

"I'm _not_ catering that stupid wedding!" Sam scoffed and marched away. "I'm going to go find Clara, and we're going home!"

An arbitrary female classmate of Sam's approached her. "Sam, nice to see - !"

"_GRAHHH_!" shouted Sam. The classmate screeched in fear and fled the scene.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Carly had rallied the girls from the food table and hurried them to the bathroom. They were more than relieved that Carly had a plan.<p>

"You sure this'll work?" asked Mary, as she leaned her head into the sink. Carly was right behind her, lathering the dye removal in her hair while Clara poured water every minute or so.

"Almost positive," she said with a nod. Carly checked over her work. "Hmm, I think it's all out. Here, come dry off." She pulled a towel out of the bag from Gibby and handed it to Mary, who was now back to being blonde. She had also removed Clara's glasses.

In other words, the two girls were now completely and utterly identical.

"How long do I need to dry?"

"Until I can't tell you guys apart anymore."

"Aunt Carly, you're a genius," Clara spoke softly, hugging Carly.

"I haven't succeeded….yet," Carly smiled, returning the hug. "Now, go switch around your clothes and be downstairs in five minutes."

* * *

><p>When Sam saw her two daughters making their way down the steps, she stopped dead in her tracks.<p>

"Why are you buys both blonde?" she questioned, puzzled.

"Oh, no reason," Mary, who was on the left, said slyly. Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking herself out of her thoughts.

"Clara…wherever you are," she continued, "We're leaving. Now. We'll figure out arrangements for our predicament or our family or whatever you call it later, but right now, we've got to go."

"No, thanks," the two girls said in unison. Sam blinked.

"This isn't funny," she said sternly, "Don't play games with Mama."

"What's going on?" asked Freddie, who had just entered the scene, Rose by his side.

Sam looked at him and scoffed. "Your spawns are being difficult. We need to leave, and Clara won't reveal herself."

"I will," they both said.

"That is," Clara added, "If you hear us out. We've got a proposition." They crossed their arms and smirked.

"Why do you have to leave?" Freddie asked, overly concerned in his stupid, dorky way that made Sam all tingly everywhere and irritated with herself for feeling such dumb things again.

"Oh, how sad, we hate to see you go!" Rose chimed in, not looking sad in the least, "Ta-ta, darling. I'll email you the dessert menu for the wedding, and I'll see you in two days!"

"Enough of this," Sam barked, ignoring Rose's yammering and Freddie's deep stare. "I know my daughters…" she leaned in close, examining each of their faces carefully, before stepping back and smiling. "You – " She pointed to Mary, "Are Clara. Definitely."

"Wow, I hope you're right, Mom!" Mary exclaimed.

"Because it would really suck to bring the wrong child all the way back to LA," Clara pointed out. Sam's smiled faltered.

"Okay, okay, what do you want?"

**A/N (PLEASE READ): I have an announcement to make. Tomorrow I'm beginning my freshman year of college (CRAZINESS). I hope you guys understand that because of this, I will not be able to update as frequently. I need to focus on getting settled, and that's just the way it is. I PROMISE I will continue to update, but don't freak out if it's been a few weeks and you haven't heard from me. Okay? Okay!**

**Meanwhile, what do you think Mary and Clara want? Why does Spencer have so much room in his cheeks? Could Rose get any more annoying? I seriously cringed writing that 'chirp' (my play off of 'tweets').**

'**Til next time!**

**-Colors**


	16. Trapter 16

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 16

_Beeeeeep._

"_Sam? Hey, it's me. You know, the Freddie me. Uh, I just… I'm sorry I got so angry yesterday, I shouldn't have left like that, or at all. I-I came back about five minutes later, I don't know if you heard me knocking or not but just… call me back, alright?"_

_Beeeeeep._

"_Hey Sam, Freddie again. Please call me, I need to talk to you. Please."_

_Beeeeeep._

"_Sam, seriously. I'm SORRY. Times nine billion. I miss you. Please call me."_

_Beeeeeep._

"_SAM, HELP! A burglar is attacking our house, and he says he won't go away unless you call me back…!"_

_Beeeeeep._

"_UH…this is the Bacon Factory. You've just won a lifetime supply of our products. Which are all bacon-esque. Call us on this exact number for more information…"_

_Beeeeeep._

"_Alright, I admit it, that last one was me. It's been a week, Sam. Just hear me out. Please?"_

_Beeeeeep._

"_I don't know what you want me to do, Sam. Tell me what I can do. I'll do anything."_

_Beeeeeep._

"_I got your file for divorce just now. I… guess this is for real then. Okay. I won't fight you. I won't take anything away. I won't bother you anymore. But one thing I can't promise is that I'll stop loving you…Sam, I don't think I can do it." Pause. "If you ever need me, I'll always be here for you. Love you, demon. I'm sorry I broke my promise."_

* * *

><p>"If Clara and Mary weren't my own flesh and blood," Sam cried out, heaving a small suitcase into the trunk of her car with great force, "They'd be so dead right now! I can't believe I fell into their manipulative, little trap."<p>

"Oh, hush," Gretchen rolled her eyes, trying to fit a blue fold-up tent between the cooler and bin of food, "They're your daughters, what did you expect? That they'd ask for ponies and sunshine in a jar?"

Sam took the Nationals baseball hat off her mess of hair and started fanning herself with it. "Forcing an overnight camping trip with the whole…" She visibly cringed. "_Family_. Me and Freddie, in the same vicinity, all night. It's like they _want_ me arrested for assault."

"Hey, at least they said _I_ could come!" Gretchen reminded her friend excitedly, "Carly, Spencer, Emily and Carly's little boys, too. It's gonna be _fun_! Lighten up, Frowny!"

"Yeah, lighten up, Frowny!" Mary mimicked Gretchen, trouncing across the parking garage with a backpack, Clara right behind her. Both girls were wearing the same purple flannel shirt and jeans, smiling cheekily.

"Watch it, MareClare," Sam told Mary sternly, using the nickname she now referred to both girls as, since she couldn't wholly tell them apart.

"I am so excited!" Clara squealed, bouncing up and down so the keychains on her backpack shook with vehemence. "Are we ready to leave? Can we head out now? Please, oh, please, I can't wait any longer!"

"Yeah, yeah, hop in," Sam couldn't help but smile. The one – seriously, the _only _– plus side to this stupid adventure-to-be was that it made her girls happy. Clara and Mary obliged, jumping into two of the three backseats of the convertible. "We're just waiting on your dad."

"No, you're not!" Freddie called out, as he marched towards the car with a backpack of his own. He stopped in front of Sam and grinned sheepishly.

"Our girls are pretty stubborn, huh? Reminds me of someone…now if only I could figure out who…" He pretended to scratch his chin in deep thought.

Sam whacked him in the shoulder. Her "Just get in the car!" came at the same time as Freddie's "Ow!" He made a show of rubbing his arm from the "pain" while he made his way to the passenger seat, grumbling to himself. Gretchen sighed and squeezed in next to Mary in the back.

Disgruntled, Sam took her place in the driver's seat and slammed the door.

"In case you forgot," Sam muttered in Freddie's general direction, "Here are my car rules. No –"

"Whining, backseat driving, vegetables, irritating noises, stripes, or _most_ dorks," Freddie finished confidently, "I know." From the backseat, Mary and Clara gave each other surprised, ecstatic looks. Gretchen crossed her arms and smirked.

Sam was relatively flustered. _Seriously? He remembered?_ She guessed she wasn't totally surprised he'd memorized all the rules. He had, after all, broken every single one of them at one point or another. "Do you want a medal or something?"

"No, thanks."

"Good, 'cause you're not getting one." Just as Sam revved the engine, she saw a flash of zebra print in her rearview mirror.

"Wait up, darlings!" Rose called shrilly. Behind her hobbled a feeble-looking Lewbert, buried under Rose's surplus of zebra-print suitcases. "Hello! Hi!"

Sam shut off the car and closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. "Freddie, go talk to your _fiancé_." Freddie looked over at Sam carefully, wondering if he had just imagined the venom in her tone.

"Uh, yeah," he said stupidly, stepping out of the car and closing the car door.

"Luggage?" Mary whispered to Clara in disgust, "She better not be coming with us."

"I know!" Clara whispered back, panicked, "It would ruin everything."

"We don't even have enough room for her in here, much less her endless bags of cosmetic clown makeup."

"Uh oh," Clara was watching their conversation through the window.

"What?" Mary pressed.

"Three summers ago I went to a day camp that had a lip-reading class," Clara went on, "And from the context clues I've gathered, it looks like…"

Freddie knocked on the window and Sam, clearly annoyed, rolled it down. "What?" she asked, impatient.

"Rose would like to join us," Freddie announced.

"Pass," Clara and Mary stated monotonously.

"Guys, that's rude!" Freddie scolded. "I expected more from you." He paused. "Well, I at least expected more from _Clara_."

"Oh, I really don't want to intrude!" Rose leaned through the driver's seat window intrudingly, "But, since I'll be a part of this family less than forty-eight hours from now, I figured, well, gee, why not start the bonding now?" She grinned from ear to ear. "I want to make sure my Fredward – " Rose blew a kiss at him. "Had a constant reminder of our _promise of love_ to each other." Either intentionally or accidentally, she made a show of examining the ring on her finger practically in front of Sam's face.

"Rose, I don't think there's enough room in this car for all your stuff," Sam said, her teeth clenched. Clara noticed her mom was gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were turning a frightening shade of white.

"That's no problem!" Rose responded, "_Fredward _will just drive the both of us down to the camping park or whatever it's called. Fredward can rent us a car." Mary knew her father well enough to tell when he felt uncomfortable, and boy did he look awkward right about now. He tried to smile at Rose, but it looked forced. "You don't mind, do you, Samantha?"

"He's all yours," Sam was quick to reply, but not without rolling her eyes.

"Wonderful!" cheered Rose, already pulling out her phone, "Fredward, remind me the number I need for your credit card account? Oh, never mind, it's written down on the counter upstairs!" She walked a distance away, phone to her ear.

Freddie took his turn to lean against Sam's window. He looked ridiculously unsure. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Sam?"

Sam pointedly glared. "The less I see of you, the better." The statement came out weaker than she had intended, but found that it still had the effect she had hoped for, based on Freddie's brief but wounded expression.

"This wasn't part of the deal, you know!" Mary pointed out angrily.

"The _deal_ was your mom and I would come camping," Freddie reasoned, "And we are. Just…with a few special guests. I'll see you guys soon." With that, Freddie followed Rose's chipper voice back into Bushwell Plaza.

"_Special _isn't quite the word I would use," Clara muttered under her breath.

"Shotgun!" Gretchen hollered, scrambling out of the car and then sliding into the passenger seat.

A few feet away, Lewbert was still carrying all of Rose's stuff.

"Can I come?" the creepy, old man asked.

In response, Sam slammed down on the horn. Lewbert shrieked dramatically and dropped all the tacky suitcases in one huge, pathetic heap on the ground.

"BWAH, I HATE THE WORLD!" Lewbert screeched, as Sam pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

><p>"Hmm, Fredward, dear, what do you think of this color?"<p>

Rose sat in the passenger seat of the less-than-adequate car Fredward had rented, pouting and painting her nails. Surely being engaged to a millionaire would bring _fancier_ cars, wouldn't it?

Of course, she had voiced her wonderfully reasonable opinion to Fredward, but instead of bending to her every whim as husbands were supposed to, he insisted it was really affordable and sufficient for the fifteen-minute drive there and back. _Please_. Nothing was worth being stuck in this dump of a car for so long.

Fredward briefly glanced at Rose's red nails before responding, "Uh, they're nice, I guess." She noticed his nose crinkle in discomfort. She vaguely recalled him telling her how he hated the smell of nail polish, but marriages involved sacrifices, his nose included.

"You _guess_? I just imported it from France! It's brand new!"

"It looks the same as the red color you had on yesterday…"

"That was _crimson_!"

Still…Rose couldn't help but recognize he'd been sacrificing a lot less lately. Ever since his brat of a daughter – or was it two daughters? She still didn't entirely understand what was going on – arrived home from summer camp, he had been distracted, and, God forbid, asserting his opinion sometimes. Simply unacceptable!

Rose wasn't programmed to be insecure, yet somewhere deep down she knew fully well it had something to do with that Samantha woman. She refused to consider her any type of threat, that was, until she just so happened to run a Zaplook check and stumbled upon iCarly dot com. From the clips she viewed, it was clear as ever that her Fredward and that…_thing_… had had some type of bizarre, dysfunctional, bickering childhood sweetheart romance that nobody understood except for them. Sure, it was _over_, technically speaking, but nonetheless the thought simply irked Rose in every way.

Which was exactly why she had chosen to accompany Fredward on his little trip, as much as he assured her it was for his daughter(s?) and that was it.

Maybe the quality of Rose's love paled in comparison to Samantha's, but with some deliciously manipulative planning, she could overpower any obstacle. And so, she would.

After all, quantity was better than quality.

* * *

><p>"We're here!" Michael cried out excitedly.<p>

"Yes! Finally!" Stephen hollered, throwing the car door open and running out towards the woods. "I gotta pee so, so bad!"

"Stephen!" Carly called after him, "Wait, whatever you do, don't wipe with the leaves – aw, man! Spencer, where did you pack the toilet paper?"

"It's in the bag between me and Mike," Emily reminded Carly from the backseat, as she pulled out a roll and handed it to her aunt.

"Yay-thanks-be-right-back!" Carly said hurriedly, before hopping out of the driver's seat after her desperate son.

"He knows there's a port-o-potty, like, right over there, right?" Michael wondered, glancing toward the object in question a few feet away as he exited the car behind Emily.

"Doubtful," Emily shrugged, digging through her backpack for her cell phone. "Aha! Found you, you stupid phone"

"It's better that way," Spencer claimed, as he took Carly's keys from the ignition and locked her car. "The last time I used a port-o-potty, a piranha was hiding in the toilet." He gulped, the unkind memory resurfacing. "It bit me in…_places_."

"My poor ears!" Emily moaned.

"Hey! Guys!" The group heard Sam's voice from a way away, "We started setting up over here!" Sure enough, Sam and Mary had already pitched two tents, while Gretchen was just beginning to light a fire. Clara sat on a tree stump, concentrating on a notepad resting on her thigh. The sun had already begun to set, and the world around them was getting darker and quieter with each passing minute.

"Cool, tents!" exclaimed Michael, running over to them. "I'm gonna pretend they're spaceships!" He crawled in. "Pew, pew! Die, alien fiends!" Gretchen and Sam chuckled.

"This wood is way too damp for a fire," Gretchen announced sadly.

"Oh, oh, let me help! Pick me!" Spencer shouted, waving his hand around. Gretchen smiled, amused.

"Go for it," she allowed, stepping back. Spencer raced over to the campfire setup, planted his feet on the ground, and just stared at it, wide-eyed and smiling. Out of literally nowhere, a perfect and warm fire erupted. Spencer stepped back, triumphant.

"Go Dad!" Emily praised, high-fiving Spencer.

"Are….are you a superhero?" asked Gretchen, bewildered.

"All in a day's work."

"But how did you - ?"

"I have absolutely no idea!"

Carly reentered the scene, a newly relieved Stephen in tow.

"Stephen, get in here, I'm playing Spaceship!" Michael informed his twin.

"Awesome!" Stephen cheered, running into the tent, "Can I be the pilot?"

"No, I'm the pilot!"

"Fine, but I get to shoot the aliens!" A plethora of spaceship noises and commands followed suit.

"Hey Mary…Clara…whoever you are!" Michael called out to Clara, "Wanna play with us?" The two boys had taken the news that they had another "cousin" pretty nicely. Emily claimed she had known it all along, also known as, Spencer had mentioned it.

"Later, I promise!" Clara responded with a smile.

Carly looked around. "Where's Freddie?"

Sam scoffed. "Who cares?"

"Sam…"

"Oh, calm down, I'm sure he'll be here soon." She paused, as if she had just tasted something nasty. "With _Rose_."

"Really?"

"Unfortunately," Mary muttered.

"Ew."

"Whatever," dismissed Sam. The duo proceeded in setting up tent number three, while Mary wandered over to see what Clara was up to.

After a while, Carly took a deep breath and tried again. "You really should talk to him, you know." Carly gave her best friend a concerned look.

"We did talk," Sam stated simply. "…Can you hand me that pole?" Carly obeyed, but the subject was not dropped.

"I mean, _really_ talk," Carly went on, with a sigh, "It's clear to everybody he's making a mistake marrying Rose. I think…" She paused thoughtfully. "I think you're the only person who could knock some sense into him."

"Maybe with my fist," Sam joked.

"I'm not kidding, Sam!" Carly exclaimed, exasperated. "You know him better than anyone else does."

"Dude, I haven't been in his life for _years_."

"A connection like you guys have doesn't just, poof, disappear!"

"Yeah? Well, this time, it did."

"What's up?" Mary asked her sister, who was still furiously scribbling notes for something.

"I've got almost everything planned out," Clara answered proudly. She tapped her pencil to the pad of paper several times, as if thinking, before looking up at her twin. "We've got – hey!" Mary snatched the notepad away.

"This is…pretty good," Mary admitted, reading over Clara's carefully structured schedule for the evening, "But, here, hand me your pencil…" Clara reluctantly handed the writing device over. Mary input some messy corrections. "Here, check it out." Clara looked over Mary's changes, and soon the girls displayed matching evil grins.

"It's perfect." Said Clara.

Mary beamed. "Abso-bacon-lutely perfect, sis. You remember the plan, right?"

"Of course I do."

Freddie's rental car carefully made its way over to park near the rest of the cars, and out he stepped, Rose close behind. She was holding a giant cup of Skybucks bubble tea.

"Sorry we're late, everybody," Freddie announced, before throwing Rose a look, "Uh, we had to stop and get Rose a drink."

"All that packing left me parched!" she explained with a smile. She looked around judgmentally. "Well…this is certainly…_something_, isn't it? Where do we sleep?"

Stephen stuck his head out from inside the tent. "Here, dummy!" The boys laughed hysterically.

"He called you a dummy!" Michael mocked. Rose looked rather displeased.

"Guys, that's not nice," Carly scolded, though she had a hint of a smile on her face.

"I have to sleep in one of those things?" Rose checked, appalled. "My heavens, did we travel back in time to the age of the Dinosaurs? Good thing I brought my queen-sized inflatable mattress!"

"Oh dear lord," Gretchen muttered under her breath.

"Dear lord indeed," Spencer agreed, in a British accent.

"Nice British accent!" Gretchen complimented. Spencer gazed at her, a lazy smile on his face.

"I like you," he told her with a nod, "Like, a _lot_."

Suddenly, Carly came over and pulled Spencer aside.

"Will it be here?" she whispered anxiously.

"Yuh-huh!" he answered giddily. "We lucked out. Socko's second cousin owns a jet plane. She was just at Freddie's place and should arrive at the airport in a few hours."

"Great!" Carly exclaimed, happy phase two of her plan was looking good. "What's his cousin's name again?"

"Skye."

"Of course. Wait, how did she get into Freddie's house?"

"Skye brought her brother, Spye, to help out." Spencer paused. "He's a secret agent."

"Oh, that family."

Once Freddie finished unloading Rose's things, he noticed Sam looked like she was struggling to pitch one of the tents.

"Want some help?" he questioned genially, walking over to her.

"Not from you," she deadpanned, "Bye!"

"Come on, Sam, you know I'm awesome with tents," Freddie tried. "Remember when we went camping our senior year of college? You wanted to make sure none of the animals got to your bacon stash, so I – "

"Made us a triple-protective tent, yeah, yeah, I got it," she rudely interrupted him. "Fine, Freddie." She stood up and walked away. "Do your worst." Freddie frowned and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. He was hoping they'd work on it, you know, _together_.

But he'd always let Sam Puckett get her way, and no matter how long it had been, he wasn't about to stop now.

"I _would_ help you, Fredward," Rose appeared at his side, blowing on her fingers, "But you know I just did my nails. Can't have them getting chipped!" She finished her tea and carelessly dropped the empty cup to the ground.

"It's okay, Rose," Freddie assured her, still focusing on the back of Sam's head. He was ninety-five percent sure he'd bought her that hat...

"Listen up, everybody!" Clara shouted. The group stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the two girls standing on the tree stump.

"'Sup, family…and other random people," Mary greeted, grinning. "Welcome to the first annual Camping Trip! It should be our best one yet! 'Cause it's our first one!"

"Right," Clara giggled, "We've got some really fun activities planned for this fine evening. Time right now is… 5:09 PM. Everybody synchronize your watches!"

"My watch says it's a hair past freckle," Spencer whispered to Gretchen in a goofy manner. She stifled a laugh.

"My cell actually says it's 5:10!" Emily called out.

"Pew, pew!" shouted the boys from the tent.

"_Anyways_," Mary cut in, "We're gonna read the schedule out loud now. Do the honors, sis!"

Clara pulled out her notepad and began to recite its contents out loud. "Okay… 5:30 to 6:30 – partner relay races! 6:30-8 – preparation and consumption of dinner! 8-8:30…" She paused for effect. "Scary stories! 8:30-10 – sing-along, S'mores, and whatever else we can think of!"

Mary reached behind her to grab a hat full of slips of paper. "Everyone come on up and pull a number out so we can partner up for the relay races!"

"You first, Dad!" Freddie walked up and stuck his hand into the array of papers.

"Ugh, let's just get this over with," Sam huffed, snatching a piece of paper as well.

"Whoops, I dropped my earring!" Mary yelled out, ducking behind her sister to stealthily switch the hats. The first one had consisted entirely of 2's.

One by one, each member of the camping trip walked up to Mary's hat and grabbed a number. At the end, Mary and Clara each took theirs as well.

"Okay, now, open your slip of paper!"

"Who's number one?" Carly called out.

"Oh, I am!" Emily exclaimed. They high-fived. "We're gonna kick butt, right, Aunt Carly?"

"Five! Who is five?" Rose wondered aloud. Gretchen groaned inwardly.

"I'm doomed," she muttered to Spencer.

"That's chicken talk!" Spencer joked. "Four, anyone?"

"Me!" Clara answered happily. They fist-bumped. Gretchen crossed her arms, smirking.

"I know you did not just call me chicken," she said. Spencer responded by making assorted clucking noises. "Oh, it's on, hon. You're going down!"

"No way, you're going down!" Clara retorted. She was having so much fun with this.

"Why are all three of us four?" Stephen asked Michael and Mary.

"There's an uneven count of people here now," Mary explained, glancing at Rose menacingly, "We didn't have time to account for our _special guest_."

"Who's number two?" Both Sam and Freddie shouted in unison. Their gazes snapped towards each other, Freddie nervous, Sam absolutely enraged.

"Uh, who wants to switch with me?" Sam called out.

"I would love to switch with you!" cheered Rose.

"No switches allowed!" Mary informed everybody. "You get what you get, and you don't get upset."

Freddie rolled his eyes. Sam could be so immature. "It's just a game, Sam. What's the big deal?"

"_FINE_," she snapped, "But don't expect me to be all happy-go-lucky about it because it's not happening."

Clara smiled. "Then let the games begin!" She tossed the empty hat into the air.

**A/N: Okay, for one thing, I'd like to apologize for delivering such a short chapter my previous update. I admit I rushed it a bit, since I was SO busy prepping for college but wanted to let you guys know I would be updating less frequently and stuff. So, yeah, even though I heard nothing but nice things, I still feel bad, so…SORRY! I hope this chapter mad up for it!**

**I seriously loved writing the camping scenes, since normally most of these characters don't interact with each other (ex: Rose and the Shay-Brown twins).**

**Alright, I hope you guys liked this chapter! Talk to you soon!**

**-Colors**


	17. Trapter 17

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I wish I owned Spencer so I could display awesome sculptures in my room.**

iTrap

Trapter 17

"Dudes!" Mary complained, as the two boys on either side of her wriggled around, "Stop moving! You keep bumping into me!"

"Stephen keeps poking me!" Michael whined, as he struggled to defend himself from Stephen's deadly fingers. The whole gang was preparing for the first relay event, the three-legged race, and since Mary and the boys were an unanticipated group of three, they had no choice but to be four-legged.

"No, I'm not!" claimed Stephen, as he once again jabbed his brother in the arm.

"Ow!" cried Michael.

"Seriously, guys!" Mary yelled, as she almost stumbled over from their constant combat, "I've got fists, and I'm not afraid to use 'em!"

"Boys!" Carly called over to her sons, as she finished tying her left leg to Emily's right, "If you keep on fighting you won't get any s'mores later!" The two boys halted immediately.

"I simply refuse," stated Rose, crinkling her nose in utter disgust at Gretchen's words.

"I'm tellin' you," Gretchen tried again, exasperated, "You can_not_ run a three-legged race in three-inch heels! It's sole-suicide!"

"And so you expect me to participate _barefoot_?" Rose countered, appalled, "Have you no class?"

Gretchen stared up at the sky. "Lord save me now."

"Is everybody ready?" Clara called out, a Spencer tied to her leg.

"Yeah!" almost everybody called out.

"No!" Sam snapped, glancing over icily at Freddie, who was standing at her side. Freddie glanced around awkwardly, unsure how to react. "Can I forfeit?"

"Oh Sam, stop acting like a teenager," Carly sighed. She was growing pretty wary of Sam's persistent cold, Freddie-directed shoulder. She remembered all too clearly the times when Sam and Freddie were together, happy as clams, and Sam let others in, bounced as she walked, smiled for no reason. Now, Sam had managed to work her way backwards, back to square one of high walls and bitter glares, and quite frankly, Carly just wanted Sam to be joyful again. But Sam, she wasn't even _trying_. _Why?_ "You're doing this for the girls, remember?"

Clara and Mary locked eyes from across the line-up of partners. Simultaneously, they nodded.

"So guys, I forgot to mention something important earlier," Mary called out, a smirk on her face. "There's a grand prize for the winner of the most relay races!"

"Sweet!" Spencer chimed in, fist-pumping the air and jumping up and down. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing special…" Mary answered casually. "Just two pounds of Bolivian Bacon." Sam froze, her jaw dropped.

"Oh no," Carly moaned.

"Oh no," Spencer echoed.

"Oh no," even Freddie added worriedly.

"Oh _yes_," Clara exclaimed, as Mary nodded excitedly.

Sam seemed to finally snap at of her trance and almost flung Freddie to the forest floor ("Whoa! Sam! Remember gravity?") as she grabbed his leg to tie them together.

"We have got to win this thing!" she shouted excitedly. Freddie couldn't help but smile. Sam Puckett's enthusiasm, though rare in this day and age, was utterly infectious.

"On that note," Clara announced, "On your mark…get set… go!"

All at once, the groups charged forward, stumbling over each other but persisting nonetheless. Carly and Emily took the lead, Sam and Freddie close behind. Mary, Michael and Stephen fell over each other, laughing hysterically at their failure to walk further than two steps.

"Okay, Benson, here's the deal," Sam said quickly. The use of their childhood last-name nicknames filled Freddie with some sort of comforting, familiar warmth. It took him back to - He shook his head; he had to stay focused. "Outside, inside, outside, inside…" She was referring to the pattern at which they were going to move their feet. Despite her complete lack of explanation, he picked this up immediately, just as he always had with her vague wording. "Ah, yes! We've got this!"

"Shall we pick up speed?" Freddie suggested happily.

"I like the way you think!" Sam agreed. They increased their pace, their tangled legs in perfect rhythm, until they passed Emily and Carly.

"Finish line's at the tree!" Freddie reminded his partner-in-relay.

"Go, go, go!" Sam cried out, the Bolivian bacon so close she could taste it. "So… close! Move it, Benson!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, Puckett!"

"You're such a girl!" Sam yelled over the wind, though anyone who knew her could tell she was smiling.

Meanwhile, far back, Gretchen and Rose were not as successful. "Why aren't we moving?" Gretchen sighed at Rose, exasperated.

"My heels, they're stuck in the ground!" Rose explained with a saddened gasp.

"Of course." Off in the distance, they watched Sam and Freddie, racing towards victory. When they finally got to the finish line, they collapsed onto the grass, panting and laughing. "Well, don't those two look cozy," Gretchen commented, feeling the urge to annoy the chickens out of her whiny partner.

"Oh, please," Rose scoffed, examining her nails, "Freddie is madly and desperately in love with me, Gretchen. It's an unbreakable force and nobody, not even that little blonde cake baker, can touch us."

"Whatever you say," Gretchen shrugged, grinning.

Despite Rose's statement, she couldn't help but notice how positively… chummy… the two were being. How hate she admit it, Freddie never smiled at her the way he was smiling at Samantha Puckett. Rose's blood boiled.

She just had to remain calm. Soon the camping trip would be over and she and Freddie would be getting married the next afternoon. It was planned and perfect and, most importantly, _soon_; it was far too late for Sam and Freddie. It had to be.

Once everybody managed to untie themselves from their partners – which proved to be far more difficult than anticipated since the Shay-Brown boys discreetly crept around and quadruple-knotted a few of the competitors' ropes – it was time for the second relay, the Egg Toss.

It was a close call, but the group that kept the egg in tact for the most passes was Spencer and Clara.

"Good thing I went to Egg-Tossing camp for three years!" Spencer had announced proudly.

Gretchen was growing increasingly frustrated with her partner, to the point where she opted out of the competition altogether. Rose was more than fine with that and spread her Juicy Couture Blanket out on the ground to take a beauty nap. Spencer offered Gretchen a cheeky grin from afar. She beamed back.

As the third and final race approached, it was down to Sam and Freddie, and Spencer and Clara, and Sam was more than determined to nab that Bolivian bacon.

And that, she reasoned with herself, was why she felt like she was having a… _good_ time with _Freddie_.

It was the Bolivian bacon.

"We are going to whoop your butts!" Sam threw at Spencer and Clara eagerly.

"Yeah we are!" added Freddie. The duo fist-bumped, smiling. Spencer and Clara glanced at each other knowingly.

Once Sam and Freddie walked away, Spencer leaned in to Clara and whispered, "You and your sister are little, mini, evil geniuses. Look at them. They're _bonding_!"

"I know, Phase One is going so well!" Clara was so thrilled she could barely contain herself, grinning from ear to ear.

"Phase two is in the works. My friend Socko's cousins – "

"Alright, people!" Mary cried out above all the chatter, "Our final contest, for all the bacon-y marbles, is… a _meat golf_ relay race!" Immediately, every pair of eyes in the vicinity shifted towards Sam and Freddie.

"Boo-ya!" Stephen cheered, cutting through the thick, awkward silence, "I'm _beast_ at meat golf, right Aunt Sam? Right?"

Freddie expected nothing less than for Sam's eyes to shift to the ground, a scowl on her face, before shoving a blistering insult in his face.

He wouldn't give her the chance to.

"We've got this in the bag," he told Sam quietly with a smile, "We're the reigning champs!"

"_Self-proclaimed_ reigning champs," Sam muttered back.

"Still counts!"

Sam sighed, frustrated. "Fine. But _jus_t – " she threw Freddie a look, "for the bacon."

"Of course," he agreed, "Just for the bacon."

Clara walked over to Mary, ecstatic.

"Mary!"

"I know!"

"It's working!"

"Dude, I know!" From a distance, the girls heard Rose snore. "By the way, huge props. I dunno how you managed to sneak those sleeping pills into Rose's bubble tea, but I've never been more proud to call you my twin."

Clara shrugged. "It was quite simple. Rose isn't the most attentive individual on this Earth." Mary giggled and stepped forward to address everybody once again.

"Since Spencer and Clara, and my mom and dad are the only two groups still eligible for the grand prize, they will be the only groups competing."

"And the rest of you guys will commence the preparation of dinner!" Clara put in.

"I've got everything set up over here!" Gretchen called by the fire.

"Right this way, kids, let's go burn chicken deliciously!" exclaimed Carly hurriedly, prancing towards the campfire site, Stephen, Michael and Emily close behind.

Spencer helped Mary and Clara unload the required materials from the trunk of his Carly's car – a cooler full of meatballs, four golf clubs, and two soccer nets. Together, they set up the field, while Sam and Freddie watched, trying to push the fondest of memories away. After all, meat golf was _them_.

"Rules are simple," Mary told the two groups, "One partner starts with the meat. They pass it to their partner who is standing a maximum of about five feet away, towards the finish line. Partners switch off passing and receiving 'til there first, wins."

"You start," Freddie offered Sam, smiling encouragingly. Sam rolled her eyes.

"Nope, you can start," she replied offhandedly, as she accepted the golf club from Mary and shoved it into Freddie's hand. Clara and Freddie readied themselves at the starting line, Sam and Spencer a few feet in front of their respective partners.

"Any questions?" Mary asked the contenders.

Freddie lifted his hand. "Actually, I – "

"GO!"

Freddie fumbled with his golf club awkwardly before whacking the meatball at his feet toward Sam with lightning accuracy. Then, he ran past her, closer to the finish line.

"The Puckett swing?" Freddie called to her, a smirk on his face.

"The only swing worthy of swingin'!" With exceptional ease, Sam sent the meatball soaring into the air, clunking Freddie in the head.

"Ow?" Freddie cried out, "Sam, come on, really? Aren't we adults now?" Despite the protests, he was, Mary noticed, smiling like an idiot.

Back and forth the meatball went, Sam to Freddie, Freddie to Sam. They were so concentrated on the game at hand that they didn't even notice Clara and Spencer drop out of the race a quarter of the way through in order to watch the spectacle that was Freddie and Sam… sort of getting along. After all this time.

Though it could have also been because Spencer's meatball burst into flames for no apparent reason.

The moment their meatball crossed the finish line, Sam raced across the battlefield and lunged at Freddie, whooping and babbling and jumping up and down in excitement.

"We won bacon!" Sam cheered, grabbing Freddie's shoulders and shaking him.

"Yeah, we did!" Freddie rooted, grinning. Proudly, Mary presented a bag of Bolivian Bacon to her parents. Everybody was watching, and the two of them were smiling, and the breeze was soothing and the sun was setting and –

Sam froze, her heart picking up abnormal speed. The scene before her felt so much like their wedding. Too much like their wedding.

Then came the nervousness, parasitic and dangerous in the pit of her stomach.

_Alone. It's better to be alone. Safer to be alone._

She let go of Freddie abruptly, like a hand jolting off of a hot stove. He frowned in heartbreaking confusion at the shift in atmosphere, at her impenetrable wall of ice that found its way back between them. _Why? Why did it have to be this way?_

"Don't expect me to share, Freddie," Sam muttered ungratefully, latching onto the Bolivian bacon protectively and retreating to the campfire. Her rigid, protective stance stood as a sharp contrast to the cheery chatter and laughter of her friends and family swirling around her.

She plopped down on one of the logs encircling the flame and stretched her hands forward to warm her newly won bacon, closing her eyes and taking slow, even breaths. _Just a few more days. _And few more stinkin' days, and Freddie Benson would be married, and nothing that she may or may not have been…feeling… right now, or ever, would matter anymore.

"…Everytime!" Emily claimed to everyone.

"Nuh-uh!" Michael countered vehemently.

"Liar pants on fire!" agree Stephen, with mouth full of hot dog.

"I'm with the little men on this one," Gretchen added, with a laugh, "There's gotta be some sorta cheat-cheat. You can't guess the right number between one and ten correctly every single time."

"No, it's really true!" Spencer backed her daughter proudly. "I raised a freak."

Carly giggled. "It takes a freak to raise one, I guess." Spencer glared.

Emily smirked. "Try me… Mary, are you thinking of a number?"

"Yup," said Mary, making a popping noise at the 'P.'

Emily gazed at Mary intently for a few moments before proclaiming, "Eight!"

"What? Abso-bacon-lutely no freaking way, I'm callin' fake-out!"

"I was right, wasn't I?"

"Read my mind now!" Stephen hollered excitedly, apparently now converted to a believer.

"Sam, are you hungry?" Carly asked softly from across the fire, always looking out for those she cared for. Which was also how she just knew something was wrong and it probably had something to do with the guy making his way over to the campfire as they spoke. "We made hot dogs."

"I'll pass," she replied, allowing the fire to soothe her worries. Unfortunately, that strategy was not effective for too long, since Freddie took the liberty – dared to sit down on the same log as her, tentatively but purposefully. Carly smiled at them.

Sam rolled her eyes and groan in protest, an action that had always reminded Freddie of their middle and high school days. Really, Sam was and always had been a child at heart, in the ways that she got the things she wanted and the ferocious way she pranced through life. Freddie, meanwhile, always felt too old for his age, analytical towards things he hadn't even experienced. Together, they were almost normal.

Almost.

Freddie said nothing at first, just joined Sam in keeping warm and tuning in and out to the ongoing campfire banter. It was getting darker now, the sunset creeping further and further out of sight. Relative to summer nights, it was a pretty cold one, he inferred. Gretchen tossed another chunk of wood into the fire and it roared upward, angry, _furious_ at the disturbance, before settling back down again, hell bent on burning the intruder away.

"Quit hogging my heat source," Sam threw at him, though the blow did not have as much of a punch as Freddie knew Sam wanted it to.

"We don't have to do this, you know," was his response, short and meaningful.

"Camping? Yeah, we do. Unless _you_ want to bring the wrong kid all the way across the country."

"No, I'm not talking about that," Freddie went on, shaking his head, thinking, thinking… "I mean, _this_ – " He gestured between them, "This whole, awkward-tension-because-we-were-married-at-one-point, thing. What if we just… started over?"

* * *

><p>"<em>What if we just…started over?" suggested Freddie, examining the pile of wrecked, unorganized wood that was supposed to be Mary's easy-to-construct crib.<em>

"_Easy to construct, my butt," Sam had remarked, examining the instructions, "Maybe if you're like, superhuman. Or psychic."_

"_Ugh, but we spent forever on this already," Sam now complained, messy blonde curled falling off her ponytail and framing her face. "What's the point?"_

"_Don't you want our daughters to have a nice place to sleep?"_

"_What if they slept in our bed and you brought a pillow up on the roof – "_

"_Sam."_

"_Fine, fine!" Sam gave in. Freddie smirked in satisfaction. _

"_Thank you."_

"_You know it's probably gonna crash and burn again, yeah?"_

"_Hey, I'd rather crash and burn with you than get it right with someone else, anyday."_

* * *

><p>Now this had Sam's attention. "Start over? You're serious?"<p>

"Hey, I'm Freddie," he stuck his hand out for her to shake it, "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

Sam stared at the welcoming hand before her for what felt like hours but was probably only mere seconds. Finally, she took his hand. "Sam Puckett. Your worst nightmare." He beamed at her.

At that exact moment, a dainty hand pulled Sam and Freddie's shake apart and a thin, rest figured squished into the space between them on the log. Then she stretched, long and obstructively.

"Oh, goodness, what a wonderful nap that was!" exclaimed Rose, "And boy am I stoked to share a hot dog with my fiancé, Freddie!" Freddie smiled uneasily. "Gretchen, whip us up a hot dog, pretty please."

Carly bit her lip and sent a nervous glance Spencer's way. Socko's cousins had better arrive soon.

**A/N: Oh my gosh, HI GUYS! Long time, no see! College is stupendous, but BUSY, and I am so glad I finally had time to complete this chapter. Got to run, but I hoped you enjoyed it!**

**-Colors**


	18. Trapter 18

**Summary: Upon meeting by chance at Camp Sparkle Lake, Mary Benson and Clara Puckett discover something shocking about their family history: they're twins, mysteriously separated at birth. They go on a mission to set right what clearly has gone wrong. A story of sisterhood, family, and lost (maybe even found) love. Based on The Parent Trap.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. If I did, 'Midnight' would never have come! Meh!**

iTrap

Trapter 18

"And when the little boys crept behind the tree…" whispered Mary eerily, pausing briefly for dramatic effect as she held the lit flashlight under her creepy, grinning face. Around her, crickets chirped in anticipation and Clara, Stephen, Michael and Spencer leaned in from their spots around Mary. "_BWEH_!"

Mary's audience screamed in terror, while she doubled over in laughter.

"Real funny, Mary!" said Clara, her voice still dotted with fear.

"Ha, I so got you guys!" she mocked, getting up and doing a little victory dance. _That was too easy._

"That was mean!" Michael whined.

"Tell it again!" Stephen begged. "Seriously, I won't even scream this time!"

"No can do, Stephen. Don't want my twin here peeing her pants." Clara shook her head at her sister, displeased. "I mean, really, who knew your scream was so high-pitched and girly, Clara?" Mary teased.

Spencer cleared his throat and raised his hand. "Actually, that was me."

Sunset was long gone and night had blanketed the woods in which the Bensons, Pucketts, Shay-Browns and company had completed setting up camp. Emily was off in the corner texting eight different people at once. Now that Sam and Freddie were finally on okay terms, the two of them and Carly were picking up trash left behind by the group while exchanging funny stories about their kids. Well, more like Freddie and Carly were picking up trash, while Sam stood back as moral support, claiming she was allergic to effort. By the time dinner was over, the combined effort of Freddie and Gretchen had managed to set up five tents – one for Sam, Clara, Gretchen, one for Carly, Michael and Stephen, one for Spencer, Emily and Mary, and one for Freddie and –

"Rose," said Gretchen, watching Freddie's crazy fiancé, who was presently outlining one of the tents with honey, "What in the lord are you doing?"

She offered Gretchen a tight, superior smile. "Well, well, dear, if you paid any attention in science class you would know that honey repels bears and other mammals."

Gretchen raised an eyebrow. "Oh really now."

"Everyone who's anyone knows that!" Rose commented, continuing on with the task.

A few feet away by the campfire, Mary nudged Clara and pointed to Rose's tent, both of them giggling, followed by a not-so-discreet fist-bump. Gretchen made her way over to the girls and crossed her arms.

"_Your_ theory, I'm assuming?" she clarified, gesturing at Rose scrambling around the tent.

Mary shrugged. "Maybe."

"And _your_ honey jar?"

Clara broke into a grin. "Maybe, maybe."

"You girls," Gretchen remarked, shaking her head and smirking, "are _definitely_ your mother's daughters." The girls shrugged.

"Hey Mike, Stephen," Mary said to the boys, who had just began a thumb-wrestling match, "You guys wanna play tag?"

Stephen immediately bounced up and whacked Michael in the shoulder. "You're it, you're it, ha ha ha ha ha!" Then he, Clara and Mary ran, Michael on their tail.

"I wish I had evil masterminds daughters!" Spencer complained, turning to Gretchen.

"Yo," called Emily from under her tree, "Anyone have a phone charger? My battery just fell in some bird poop."

"Don't you already have an evil mastermind ex-wife?" Gretchen reminded him as she took a seat. She couldn't help but note how cute he looked when he was being whiny.

"Oh man, she was miserable!" Spencer agreed, "She doesn't even believe in Beavecoons!"

"That's just plain silly," Gretchen laughed, "I saw one of those once."

"They're real, I swear – _wait –"_ Was this really happening? "What?"

"Yeah, a few years back," she explained, "I was driving and one of those suckers ran right in front of my car. I almost hit it, it came out of nowhere! But it was definitely part beaver, part raccoon. No question."

This was really happening!

Spencer jumped off the log they were sitting on and punched the air, over and over. "Yes, yes, yes! Thank you! Thank you! C'mon – " He grabbed Gretchen's hand and pulled her up. "Let's go!" He dragged her towards the forest.

"Whoa, hon, where we headed?"

"BEAVECOON HUNTING, dear lady!"

* * *

><p>"…So I opened the cabinet under the sink and there was Stephen, kicking the ceiling, covered in peanut butter!"<p>

Sam and Freddie burst into laughter as Carly tied up the final trash bag.

"Holy cheese!" Sam exclaimed, the hilarious picture clear in her mind.

"How did that even _happen_?" Freddie chirped in.

"I have no idea!" Carly admitted. "But now it smells like peanuts whenever I do the dishes." She crinkled her nose. "Stupid peanuts. They look like bald, little man-heads, don't you think?"

"Specking of bald little man-heads," interjected Sam as the trio made their way over to the smoking campfire and sat down on a log. Freddie, Carly, Sam. A three-part puzzle, incomplete without each other no matter what. "One time when Clara was three, she told me she wanted to be bald so that she could plant seeds on her head to grow food to give to the homeless!"

"Aw!" Carly cooed. "Cranium crops!"

"That's a coincidence," said Freddie, "Because Mary shaved one of her classmates bald during naptime once!" This statement caused the trio to laugh so hard that they cried. Sam even fell backwards off the log, which just made everyone laugh harder. Hard enough to forget.

When the hysteria finally ceased and those involved were catching their breath, Carly spoke up.

"I miss this," she said quietly. "I miss you guys."

Sam and Freddie couldn't help but glance across Carly and catch each other's eye, before awkwardly looking away.

Sam decided she was going to send The Serious Conversation packing. _Start over… we need to start over. _So she simply laughed. "Don't be stupid, Carls. We're right here!"

"Seriously, Sam." And that moment, Sam knew that she would have to shut up and embrace the seriousness because Carly Shay was never one to let things go. "You, too, Freddie." Freddie seemed to have drifted off into his own, contemplative world but was now back and listening. Carly sighed and patted her stomach. "I've got another kid on the way. I am always peeing. My boobs are like stone weights. I'm going to get fat and cranky and with Ben working so much I can't do this again without _both_ of you."

This statement really hit Freddie hard because even though it probably wasn't her intention, he felt like Carly's words were a jab at the fact that he hadn't really been there for her during her pregnancy with the twins, at least not in the way he should have been, in the way Carly had been there for Sam and him when Mary and Clara were on the way. Sure, he called Carly every other week and came down to visit a month or so after the birth, but this invisible but horribly powerful Sam-built force field kept him at arm's reach. Because Carly and Sam were a package deal. If you found yourself pushed out of one of their lives, odds were you'd fall out of the life of the other, too. And that was exactly what happened.

Truth was he was a coward. Nothing really was physically holding him back from being there for Carly. He didn't try hard enough because he knew that Sam wanted him to stay away. It was all she was asking of him those days, and he refused to let her down.

"Hey, don't worry," Sam assured Carly, "I'll be here."

"Me too," echoed Freddie, though in his heart he knew it was a half-empty promise. At least he wanted to mean it fully, right? And maybe this time around, things would be… kind of different. He and Sam did agree to start over, so maybe they would.

"Gather 'round everyone!" Clara cried out to the campsite, Mary glued to her side, holding her blue acoustic guitar Santa had dropped under her tree three Christmases ago. "It's time for a sing-along!"

"I thought we were playing tag!" Michael whined.

"We _were_, but…"

"No, no more 'Tag'!" ordered Carly. "It's way too dark outside!"

"…But _that_." Mary finished. "Anyways!" She sat down on the log beside the one occupied by the former iCarly stars and readied the guitar on her lap. Clara sat next to her. Slowly, everyone within earshot of Clara made their way over to the campfire site and sat around on the logs. "Let's get this par-tay started!"

Though not without complaint. "These tree lumps are killing my thighs," Rose felt the need to share.

Carly, part of the plan, discreetly removed herself from the log she was sharing with Sam and Freddie and announced she had to go to the bathroom, woods-style. Again. Off she went, smiling to herself. Sometimes it paid off to be pregnant because it called for great excuses.

"Where's my dad?" Emily wondered. "And Gretchen?" Everyone shrugged.

"Mary plays guitar?" Sam asked Freddie, impressed.

"Yeah, she's been taking lessons for a few years now," Freddie explained. "It's probably the only object she does not enjoy smashing."

Sam smiled at that. "Clara sings."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Wow," said Freddie. "They're… perfect for each other."

"This little number goes out… to our parents." Mary totally and utterly loved the feeling of completeness she felt saying those words. "You guys ain't perfect, you're kind of lame sometimes actually, but even though you kept Clara and me apart for so long, you also allowed us to find each other. We hope this helps _you_ find each other again. If anyone knows the words, feel free to sing along." Mary began strumming a soft, pensive tune, leaving Sam and Freddie confused and curious until Clara started singing.

"_Did I tell you I knew your name, but it seems that I've lost it?"_ Clara crooned. "_Did I tell you it's my own game? This is not your problem_…"

Sam Puckett's heart started beating, rapidly and angrily. Everything inside her told her to get up and run, but she was too shocked to move. That song. That stupid, excruciatingly slow, painfully meaningful song that made it to seven hundred plays on her PearTunes freshman year of high school because of _him_. The man used-to-be boy sitting beside her, looking just as uncomfortable.

"_I don't know if I'm gonna change… wasting time and another day…"_

Memories. Freddie Benson could feel them, like a calming but relentless breeze flowing through his conscience. Fourteen years old or in their thirties, married or unmarried, starting over or nearing the end, this song would always take him back to that night. The night where he first realized he was in love with Sam Puckett.

"_I keep…"_

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Running away…"<strong>__ AM sang from fourteen year-old Freddie Benson's PearPod speakers, clear and beautiful._

_Freddie couldn't help but notice that just as the words 'running away' flowed into the air on the fire escape, Sam's back was turned, and she was heading back inside. She was bolting._

_This made him panic. This… this first kiss, this out-of-this-world thing that had transpired just seconds ago, it was… well, it was huge for them. At least, it was huge for him, because who knew what was going on in that demon's head. All Freddie knew was he had so much more to say than 'That was nice.'_

_But what? What could he say? They had promised things would go back to normal. Well, normal for them. _

"_**Even from the good things…"**_

"_Hey," he heard himself say. Sam turned around, expectant. And at that moment Freddie knew exactly what to say. "I hate you." He couldn't help but smile at her, the warmth of this moment filling all the empty spaces inside him, instantly._

"_Hate you, too."_

_Because normal for Sam and Freddie was an unspoken implication. To keep on fighting, because they were worth the fight. _

_Still, something changed that day. And it was only a matter of time, Freddie reasoned, until they called a truce and lived happily, dysfunctionally ever after._

"_**I keep running away…"**_

* * *

><p>"<em>Even from the good things…" <em>sang Clara, as Mary strummed along. Both girls tried to act casual but could not stop themselves from sneaking glances at their parents' shocked faces. They'd learned about the secret meaning behind this song from Carly.

"Fredward!" Rose cut in abruptly, "Can I have a word with you? In private?"

"S-sure," Freddie agreed as Rose dragged him away. Truthfully, he was relieved to have been removed from that awkward situation.

Once they were out of earshot, Mary stopped playing. Sam eyed the girls suspiciously and vicously.

"Interesting song choice," she deadpanned.

Mary and Clara grinned sheepishly.

* * *

><p>She did not like the looks of that sing-along. Oh, no, she did not.<p>

"Fredward," Rose snarled, "What was _that_?"

"What was what?" Freddie asked, playing dumb.

"Do you think I am a fool?" she hissed. "Those... _looks_ you were giving Sam Puckett while the Singing Clones were performing. Like suddenly she was the whole world. Explain yourself!"

"I-um, it was just," Freddie stammered, speed-shopping for excuses, "It's just a song from my childhood. Sam and I both like it."

This was getting out of hand. Rose had seen enough chick flicks to see what was on the horizon, and she couldn't risk losing her financially-flourishing husband. Her wealthy, carefree future was slipping through her perfectly manicured fingers and into the dirty hands of some horrible, abrasive baker. If Freddie wasn't going to remove himself from the mine trap that was Sam Puckett and stay in her arms where he so rightfully belonged, Rose would just have to do it herself.

"Do you love me?" she challenged, staring Freddie straight in the eye.

The question surprised him. "Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, you know I do."

"Then there is something I want you to do for me. For us." She smiled deviously. "About that lottery money..."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, along the outskirts of the campsite, a small helicopter landed, and right on schedule, Carly wandered over to meet Spye and Skye, Socko's twin cousins, who Spencer had enlisted to help out in a scheme.<p>

The plan she and Spencer had hatched, Carly figured, was just crazy enough to work. Spye's role had been to break into Freddie's house in Boston without setting off the alarms, locate his winning lottery ticket, make a photocopy of it and bring both tickets to the campsite. All the while, Skye's helicopter was to be used to get to Boston and back to Seattle as fast as possible. Once Clara and Mary had hold of the tickets, they would pretend to destroy the fake ticket right in front of Rose and Freddie. In doing this, Carly hoped that crazy lawyer-slash-yoga-instructor Rose would crack and reveal that she was indeed only marrying Freddie because he won the lottery and not because she really loved him.

Carly watched as Spye hopped off the helicopter, followed immediately by his sister Skye. Both of Socko's cousins were in their early forties.

"Over here!" shouted Carly.

"Are you Carly Shay?" asked Spye, all business-like.

"Yes, hi, that's me, that's my name!" gushed Carly. "I'm so glad you guys made it in time!"

"Yeah, and we picked up a hitchhiker on the way…" said Skye, smiling.

"What – " Just then, the third passenger of the helicopter strode out. Carly squealed like a thirteen year-old. "No way! Ben?"

Ben grinned at his wife and spread his arms out. "Are you gonna hug me or what?"

Carly took off running and jumped into Ben's arms. He kissed her sweetly.

"How did you end up on an unregistered helicopter flying from Boston?" Carly asked.

"I got off work early," he explained, "So I texted Spencer asking if I could still come camping, to surprise you. He said he'd arrange a ride. I figured he meant like a taxi or something, next thing I knew a helicopter landed in the Bushwell Parking lot. Lewbert was not happy."

"I'm so glad you're here!" Carly exclaimed. "It's been… well, nuts around here. So where's the ticket and faux-ticket?" The question was directed at Spye and Skye, standing awkwardly to the side.

"About that…" said Skye, biting her lip.

Carly's smile faltered. "You do have the tickets… don't you?"

"Negative," said Spye.

"What?" Carly shrieked.

"Honey, calm down – " Ben tried carefully.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" she snapped. "It… it just makes me more not calm! Why don't you have the tickets?"

"We couldn't find it," Spye explained. "We scanned every room in the guy's house. Either that ticket was doused in some form on anti-detection spray, or it's simply not there."

"But if it's not in Freddie's house," Carly pondered out loud, "Then… where is it?"

* * *

><p>After saying a quick goodbye and thanks to Spye and Skye, Carly returned to camp. So the plan didn't go very well (more like it didn't go at all), but at least Ben was here. Things had to be looking up.<p>

"Dad!" Stephen and Michael shouted in unison, sprinting over to their father and attacking him with a hug.

"Hey buds!" he said happily.

"Hey, Uncle Ben!" Emily came over.

"Hi!" added Clara.

"Hey girls!" said Ben. He fist-bumped them both.

"Benny-Ben!" greeted Sam. "When'd you get here?"

"Just now," he answered, putting an arm around Carly. "I literally dropped in."

Carly grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh, you and your puns!"

Mary stood awkwardly to the side, feeling like some sort of lame intruder on the little love fest going on. Because Rose was off discussing stuff with Freddie and Spencer took Gretchen who knew where, she was literally the only one who didn't know Ben. She didn't know Ben, or love Ben. She hadn't grown up with him in her life. She hadn't even _met_ him. It'd be so humiliating to have to introduce herself for the first time among all their happy, familiar chaos.

For the first time this summer, she felt like she didn't belong.

"Attention, future family!" cried Rose, as she and Freddie finally reappeared, "Freddie and I have just the most wonderful announcement to make, don't we, dear?" Freddie nodded.

"Absolutely," he agreed.

"As most of you know, my handsome, wonderful, loving fiancé won the lottery recently." Sam had to turn away so she could gag at the sugar rushing out of Rose's butt. "We've had quite a pickle of a time trying to figure out what to do with this ticket – " Rose pulled the actual lottery ticket out of her purse and held it high for the world to see. Carly smacked her hand against her head. _Who carries a lottery ticket around with them? Stupid plan-ruiner! _"…But I thought of a wonderful idea tonight and my Fredward has agreed to it… After the wedding, we are moving to Spain! Happily ever after!"

Silence. Even the wind shut up. The hush seemed to drag on for hours, though really it only lasted a few seconds.

"Spain?" Carly finally broke the silence. You could practically feel her heart breaking, as it sank in that Freddie would not be around so much after all. "As in, eight-thousand-miles-across-the-world Spain?"

"Of course that Spain!" said Rose, cheerful and oblivious to the utter outrage boiling inside of Freddie's loved ones.

Sam opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly, Mary let out a long-overdue cry of frustration, kicked a log, and took off running into the woods.

"Mary!" Freddie shouted, running after her. "Mary, get back here right now!"

"Whoa, kiddo, where you going?" Sam cried, dashing in right behind Freddie.

"Mary, no, don't!" Then came Clara, right behind her mother. Thinking on her feet, she grabbed a roll of toilet paper and stuffed it in Carly's arms. "Hold this!" The broken family disappeared into the darkness of the evening woods, toilet paper trailing behind them.

**A/N: Dun dun DUN!**

**I'm sorry this update took forever. I hope you are all having a lovely new year so far and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We finally met Ben! But Rose is still wrecking everything ever! Why did Mary run off? What are Spencer and Gretchen up to? What will transpire in the woods? Will Clara ever get to grow cranium crops? Stay tuned!**

**-Colors**


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